"You..." Tommy shuddered, and pushed out the words before he could lose his nerve. "You're new at this. I told you I shouldn't be your first anything. I'm not ready to be in a relationship like this. I hate to do this because I really like you, but you deserve every chance at happiness and I'm not it."

"But Tom..."

"I'm not it," Tommy interrupted. "Look, I made the decision to go back to London. Are you going to follow me there?"

"I...that's really far away...I...don't even think I can afford to go out of state for college." He looked down at his hands, knowing exactly where Tommy's train of thought was heading.

"I know, but I can't stay here, Mark. It's killing me. I hate it. I've met so many great people, but I fucking hate it here, because I miss my home, and I miss my friends, and I miss my culture."

"And you miss your boyfriend," Mark muttered.

"Stop it," Tommy replied, dismayed. "It's over with him, Mark. He fucking won't even speak to me. What I'm trying to say is that I'm tying you down, and I don't want that. I want you to go out there and have a good time and find some guy who isn't already broken, and who will love you, because I..."

He couldn't say it as Mark looked up at him with heartbreak apparent in his eyes.

"We should call it quits before one of us falls in love. That's all."

"What if it's too late for that?"

"Don't say that, Mark," Tommy said desperately. "Please, don't say that."

"Okay," Mark whispered. "I won't say it."

"This summer...it's been incredible," Tommy said. "I wish it could last, but I've made up my mind. I'm going back when I graduate no matter what. If you hate me for it, that's okay."

"I don't," Mark murmured. "It wasn't your choice to come here. I don't blame you for wanting to go home. Wrong Place, Wrong time, eh, Tommy?"

"Yeah," Tommy replied. "I'm sorry. I just don't want to end up hurting you."

"You already are," Mark said.

Tommy frowned at Mark, who shrugged.

"But it's okay," he said. "I'll go home and stab a pillow or something. I'll get over it eventually. I just wish I wasn't your rebound guy. I wish we'd have met before all the bad stuff happened to you."

"Me too." Tommy bowed his head. "So...this is it, huh?"

"Hey," Mark replied softy. He reached out to gently touch Tommy's face, then tilted his chin up so they were looking into each other's eyes once again.

"Mark?"

"I don't regret this," Mark murmured. "Not one bit. Not even tricking you into studying for Shakespeare with me so I could steal you away from your girlfriend."

Tommy let out a choked giggle at that and Mark smiled at him. He put his hands back in his lap and sighed. "I hope you don't either, Tommy."

"No. Absolutely not."

"Good." Mark nodded firmly. "And I hope we can still be friends too. 'Cos I'm going to need a lot of help, and I...you're good to talk to."

"Maybe not such a good idea," Tommy replied. "I...I mean not right away. I want to give you a little room to breath at first."

"You're not going to like...run in the other direction if I need you, are you?" Mark frowned.

"No!" Tommy shook his head. "I wouldn't do that. I just mean, maybe we might not eat lunch, or hang out alone together for a few months."

"Fair enough." Mark sighed. They lapsed into silence as Mark poked listlessly at piece of cheesecake on his plate.

"This is weird," he finally admitted. "I've never been dumped before. I don't really know how to act."

"I'm sorry," Tommy replied.

Mark smiled ruefully at him. "It really sucks."

"I know," Tommy muttered. "I'll get the check."

"You sure? I can pay for my half..."

"No. I got this." Tommy replied.

"Okay." Mark paused then and looked around the restaurant trying to find somewhere to rest his eyes. He finally stood up from the table.

"I'm going to get going. My dad's expecting me." He approached the opposite side of the table, leaned over and kissed Tommy gently on the forehead as he looked up.

"See you around, Tom?" he asked hopefully. "Fall ball starts in a few weeks, right?"

"Yeah," Tommy murmured. "I'll see you there."

Mark left him then, and Tommy hailed the nearest waiter.

"What can I get for you?" he asked.

"Yeah," Tommy replied. "I'm going to need another slice of cake." He indicated the plate of chocolate crumbs in front of him. "Make it a really big one, okay?"

The waiter nodded and scurried away towards the kitchen.

Tommy watched him go then turned towards the vacated place setting across the table. He sighed, and even though he knew he shouldn't, he reached over and grabbed the untouched piece of cheesecake that resided there. His melancholy tugged the corners of his lips into a troubled frown and he concentrated on the cake in an effort to suppress tears that threatened to spill from his eyes.

He hated that he had become so terrified of falling in love again that he would hurt someone he cared about in a desperate effort to avoid it.

He hadn't told Graeme about the break-up. It didn't seem worth it since he and Mark had never seemed to warm up to each other. He was vindicated by Graeme's seeming indifference towards the sudden lack of Mark. He never asked why Tommy seemed to be spending more time with him, or why he seemed to be in a constant bad mood, despite his new gig with the Shaina Spyder band. It didn't really help that once school started back up again Mark was still friendly towards him and insisted on smiling and waving whenever they passed each other in the corridors of Virgin Valley High School. It made Tommy feel small and miserable. He had quit on a good thing, and he knew it.

Tommy's surly mood did not go unnoticed by everybody though. His mother, always watchful and wary, was astutely aware of the state her son was walking around in. One day she tried to broach the subject.

"Is something wrong, Tommy?" She asked over a Kentucky Fried Chicken dinner: her favorite meal on a Tuesday.

"Nothing is wrong," he snapped at her.

"Tommy?"

"Why should I even tell you?" he muttered.

"Because, I'm your mother. I want to be able to talk to you again...like we used to."

"This isn't like it used to be," Tommy growled. "If you must know, I dumped Mark before you get the chance to take me away from him too."

"Tommy, I wouldn't do that," she said as she looked down at the table. "That isn't even what happened with Richard, and you know it!"

"Sorry if it doesn't look that way from where I'm sitting, Mum," Tommy muttered caustically.

"I didn't take you away from him."

"You took me away from London! You didn't give me a choice!" Tommy said. "You know a whole ocean and almost an entire continent apart is a pretty hard obstacle to overcome, especially when he won't even talk to me, but whatever. Just so you know, I'm going back to London when I turn eighteen."

"I figured you might." She looked down at her hands and frowned. "You know things might not just fall back into place the way you want them to just because you go back, Thompson."

"I know they won't," he replied. "Look, I'm not going back for Richey. I'm going back because I want to live in my own country. Think what you want."

He stood abruptly from his chair and marched away to his room. Madeline looked after him and sighed. She wanted her son back. She hadn't realized how difficult that was going to be.

It had been a fun summer, and for that Tommy was grateful, but the truth of it was that Mark was right. He was a rebound, and Tommy was determined to save himself further heartache and attachments in Mesquite, Nevada. The decision had been made to return to England, and there wasn't anything that could change his mind. Graeme wouldn't change his mind, success in the Spyder Band would not, and is mother certainly wouldn't. There was something in London that belonged to him, and he had come to the decision that he was going to get it back. Aside from that, Mark was new. Tommy had been his first boyfriend, and he didn't want to be the last either. He felt that he had to push Mark out of the nest, so to speak, before he got visions of white picket fences. Mark was the settling down type, Tommy could tell, and so was he. He wasn't ready for that kind of relationship so fast. He didn't know if he was ready for that kind of relationship ever if it couldn't be with Richard Blume. He picked up the phone several times that summer contemplating just calling Richard instead of waiting for the call that he knew would never come. He could never bring himself to do it though. He would sit there in his room with the handset in his hand imagining all the horrible possibilities that phone call would bring, the worst of which was ultimately Richard hanging up on him without speaking a word.

*****

The first federal holiday that Tommy had actually experienced in the United States had been the Fourth of July.

Mark had invited him to a barbecue, and Tommy might have made it through the entire day with only a passing thought to the intent behind the celebration if it hadn't been for Mark's father and his jokes at the expense of Tommy's nationality. The man had pointed out the irony of an English man attending a 4th of July party and had drunkenly shouted a few too many times: "The British are Coming!" throughout the night whenever Tommy spoke. What had been meant as a well intentioned invitation by his boyfriend had turned into a miserable exercise in patience. He had manged to not strangle Mark's dad, who was unresponsive to all the explanations that both boys threw at him that Tommy's father was indeed as American as apple pie, baseball, and the 4th of July. Simply the presence of an accent seemed to negate an entire half of his heritage. Tommy would have liked to have forgotten that half as well, but he would use it if it meant less jokes at his expense. It didn't mean anything to a drunken man who thought he was hilarious though.

Mark was dutifully mortified at his father's behavior and had offered to take Tommy to the Rec Center to watch the official town fireworks show instead, but Tommy was determined to stick it out. He didn't want to let Mark's dad know that he was bothered by his embarrassing drunken antics.

He would have thought it couldn't have gotten any more awkward than it had at the Fourth of July. He was looking forward to his first Christmas abroad. It had always been his favorite holiday, and since soccer he and his father had been getting along fine. It seemed that a little eyeliner and a preoccupation with guitars could be overlooked if a little sport was involved. Tommy wondered if the same could be said for a preoccupation with boys. He wasn't about to risk the tenuous peace that had befallen his household to test that theory though. He had put off telling his father for so long that it no longer felt like it was even an option.

***

Thanksgiving preparations were never that enjoyable. Preparing o­nly meant that he would have to worry about his brothers trampling into his life and his house with their big dirty feet and their thousands of dirty whining children. It was enough to drive Graeme crazy when all of them got foisted o­n him when nobody else wanted to take care of them. He still was made to sit at the children's table even though he was at least three years older than his oldest nephew. He was glad he had a few distractions on the last day of school. Namely taking his time dropping Tommy off after classes, and watching Kathy Matthews walking down the hallway in the shortest miniskirt he had ever had the pleasure to witness in his life. He knew she was racist, and he knew she was prejudiced, but she had also become the hottest girl in school. He knew for a fact, there had been a poll to decide o­n the matter. He consoled himself for being attracted to such an awful person by the fact that just because he was looking didn't mean that he was going to want to get back with her. It probably wouldn't have been possible anyway, since she had spent the past year hating his guts. Apparently she had mellowed out over the summer, however, because, as she flounced past Graeme, she winked at him and blew him a kiss.

He was confused by the gesture for a moment and didn't have a chance to respond. He was left staring at her retreating form with a witty comeback perched in his open mouth. He thought better than to call her back and forced his mind to return to the imminent arrival of his troupe of successful brothers. They would descend upon the house and commence badgering, bullying and generally trying to be the brothers that they didn't get to be the rest of the year around. He could deal with most of them, but it was the unfounded hatred
towards the youngest member of the family that his brother Gary harbored that worried him. The man had seemed to make it his mission in life to make Graeme feel as worthless as possible. It might have been a harsh thought if Greame didn't believe it was true. Gary seemed to delight in torturing him for no reason. It was like they were from entirely different planets. They had no similarity and anybody would have been hard pressed to believe they were actually brothers. There wasn't a more appropriate word to describe Gary's feelings towards Graeme other than pure unadulterated hatred and resentment, and Graeme had no idea why. His mother and father always turned a blind eye towards the caustic relationship between the first and last born, so Graeme had to sit there and take the abusive barrage of insults and jibes thrown at him at every single holiday venture. He'd gotten used to being belittled. It was a very big part of the reason he had no real direction in life, because everybody was pulling him around wanting him to go in different directions.

Guy wanted him to go into music, his father wanted him to join his family business like his brother Gordon had, Geoff thought being on the police force might be the anser and Gary seemed to want him to disappear from the planet. For the moment he would have preferred to disappear than to face all of their expectations o­nly to disappoint them all. Graeme could only be relived that they hadn't all grown up together, because the way they fought with each other it was a wonder they even got through the holiday seasons. So Thanksgiving crept up ever so slowly and stealthily.

***

Graeme sat next to his mother at the island in her kitchen, dutifully plucking the stems from her strawberries as he had been instructed to do by his mother. He vaguely complained about all the kitchen slave work he endured every Thanksgiving as his mother bustled around him basting the turkeys and whipping the mashed potatoes.

"How many aunts do I have that could be doing this instead of me?" He asked.

"George's wife is a priss," Romey replied. "She wouldn't want to ruin her manicure. Marcy can't cook to save her life, Geoff and Guy have no wives and Gordon's wife... Would you rather babysit your nephews or cut strawberries?"

"You win," Graeme replied. She always won the arguments and that was part of the fun.

"That's what I thought," She replied. "You should have time to catch up with your brothers when they get here. You never see them!"

"Good," Graeme muttered, his mood suddenly turning sour.

"Come on, don't be like that. They're your brothers," Romey said.

"They're all old enough to be my dad, and they act like it. Let's not even talk about how much Gary hates me."

"Gare doesn't hate you. Don't say that about your brother."

"He has a funny way of showing his non-hate," Graeme said. "He doesn't get me and he doesn't like me. Don't try to pretend you don't know it. At least Gordon and George can fake interest in me. Geoff is cool. Guy is one of my best friends. You can't win them all, Mom. Four out of five ain't bad."

Romey frowned at him.

"Will you try to be nice, Graeme? You're always so standoffish around him!"

"Don't blame me!" He snapped. "It's hard to be nice to someone when just who is just going to find something wrong with you the moment you open your mouth."

"Okay, Okay." Romey said. "Let's just try to keep the peace for once. Gary had to pull some strings to be here. You know how busy he is."

"Yeah," Graeme muttered. "His life is so important."

"All your lives are important," Romey said. "Okay? You're my boys! I love you all!"

"I know, Mom," Graeme replied. "I love you too. I'll just stay in my corner tonight."

***

Graeme wasn't the o­nly unenthusiastic person around Mesquite.

Tommy thought Thanksgiving was a ridiculous holiday in the first place and didn't want to celebrate it any way. His father was insistent o­n having Turkey, his mother, as always, was insistent that they pretend to be a family, and Tommy was insistent o­n not eating anything, which was nothing new, and his parents both worried about his health. Despite Tommy wishing to keep the peace relations in the Sinclair household were starting to become strained.

***

Graeme could tell that the day was going to be just fabulous as soon as Geoff walked in with his very blonde, very big breasted girlfriend. She was from California he said, and she was a lifeguard. Graeme wondered if the man's life could get any more cliché. That was Geoff, though. The last o­ne had been nearly the same, except she'd been an aerobics instructor, the one before that was a Vegas showgirl. Then Gary and his wife arrived. They were a good match, but it wasn't long before she disappeared into the kitchen to help hoist the turkeys into the fryers and Gary started in o­n Graeme.

Apparently his hair was too long, his pants were too short, his shirt didn't match his socks, and his socks didn't match each other. Didn't he care about his appearance? Did he have a job? Oh, he was working in fast food? What kind of a job was that? Didn't he want to be something more than a fry cook for the rest of his life? Were his aspirations no higher than Spongebob Squarepants? And didn't he have a girlfriend? Wasn't about time he found o­ne? Graeme could do nothing but stand there and take Gary's barrage of questions. He might have said something had he not promised his mother to be on his best behavior. He was thinking about just how much he despised holidays when they sat down in the living room next to Guy. Being around Gary was no less than demoralizing. Geoff was also sitting in the room not paying attention to Graeme at all, but focusing instead on his new girlfriend. Guy was looking bored out of his mind with his head lolling back and his gaze pointed at the ceiling.

"So what are you planning to do after school?" Gary asked, sneering.

Graeme thought it was still too early to be thinking about such things, since he'd o­nly just become a Junior. For most people it might have been time to look towards the future, but for him it was the time to put the future off.

"Art school, I think." Graeme shrugged, feeling awkward and not wanting to discuss it any further. It was the first thought that entered his head, and it was probably the o­nly place where he would fit in anyway.

"Art school?" Gary scoffed.

"Leave him alone'" Guy sat up and came to Graeme's defense.

"Oh, C'mon, really. What's he going to do with an art school degree?" Gary elaborated.

"Leave him alone," Guy repeated. "Graeme is going to be more successful than the lot of us. He's talented; you'll see."

That was the first Graeme had ever heard of that, but he sat in his chair with his lips pursed as silent as could be.

"Sure he is." Gary rolled his eyes. "Since George you've all gotten progressively less successful. Though I'm not sure how he could be less successful than you, Guy, but I'm sure he can manage."

"Fuck you," Guy mumbled beneath his breath.

Gary leaned closer to his brother. "What was that? I didn't hear you."

"I said fuck you," Guy enunciated.

Gary rolled his eyes yet again. "I really think this youngster needs a stronger roll model; o­ne that treats his elders with respect."

"Are you going to apply for the job then, Gary?" Guy spat, "because Dad's already dropped out of that position."

"Don't start with me," Gary warned as the doorbell clanged.

Graeme for the first time o­n Thanksgiving was thankful. He shot from his seat and nearly ran to answer the ring. He was expecting another o­ne of his brothers as two of
them had yet to arrive. What he got was Tommy Sinclair looking, for some reason, very tired and very sad.

"What are you doing here?" Graeme blurted out.

Instead of an answer Tommy grabbed his friend's arm and dragged him outside before shutting the door behind them.

"Are you alright, Tom?" Graeme asked.

Tommy looked plaintively up at him, his large brown eyes tinged red from crying.

"I got in a fight with Mum," he whimpered. "I mean, it just got so I couldn't stand it any longer. I was sitting at our dinner table eating, I don't know what the fuck it was. Cranberry sauce? I don't know, Mum never was a proper cook, but it didn't matter, because she was happy. She was staring across the table at him, and she was happier than I'd ever seen her."

"Shouldn't you be glad?" Graeme asked a little bit confused.

"No, don't you get it?" Tommy sighed. "I couldn't make her happy. I made her life miserable, and she's o­nly happy with him. She never came here for me like she said she did. None of this was for me or to keep me safe or anything. It wasn't. She already knew she couldn't change what I am. I could've gotten into another school in London. She came here for herself, and she's not going back. Why would she? All she got over there was crap. From her job, and her parents, and most of all from me. I don't believe it. I just...I'm going back, and I just realized that I'm going to be alone. I don't know my grandparents. My family is here, and I'll admit it. I know graduation is a couple years away, but it's scary."

"I'm sorry, Tom," Graeme murmured. Even though graduation seemed far away Tommy's departure suddenly seemed quite eminent and Graeme didn't want to lose the best friend he'd ever had.

"I got in a fight with Mum, because I didn't want to do this whole family meal thing. I didn't want to sit there and watch her being thankful for any of this. I just stood up and told them I was going to that charity gig early. She got so angry. She said I wasn't trying. Then my dad started in." he stared down at his feet and seemed to become uncomfortable.

"So, I get in fights with my dad all the time." Graeme shrugged. "That's normal."

"It's my fault though. I mean, my dad, he never really did anything to warrant me." Tommy let out long sigh. "I don't know what he wanted, but he did't get it. He didn't deserve to get me."

"Don't talk like that," Graeme chastised. "I thought you were getting along with your dad finally?"

"As long as I'm the big jock on campus." Tommy snorted. "He can be proud of me when I'm the best player on the football team. Though he'd still rather me be on the other football team, I'm sure."

"Did he say that, or are you just thinking up worst case scenarios again?" Graeme asked. "Come on, Tommy. It can't be that bad."

Tommy tugged his sleeves over his hands and rocked back and forth o­n his heels trying to find a way around any further explanation. Instead of speaking he grabbed both of Graeme's hands in his own and pulled them around his waist. He then wrapped his own arms around Graeme and lay his head on his friend's chest.

"Seriously, Tom," Graeme said. "You do not get this upset when you argue with your mom about family dinners. I've been there for uncomfortable dinner times, remember? You just pout at her for a while and eat in silence. I can't properly comfort you if I don't know what the hell is going on."

"He knows," Tommy mumbled, his voice muffled against Graeme's chest. "My mother told him. I tried to storm away, like usual, but she wouldn't let me. She said she was tired of lying to him, and she marched me back into the dining room and threatened to tell him."

He pulled himself away far enough so that he could look at Graeme but not enough to break the embrace.

"I couldn't do it," he said. "He was sitting there waiting, and I begged her not to make me do it. I've never been ashamed ever, not until today. I don't even know why, and the worst part?"

Graeme nodded and Tommy continued.

"She used Mark," he said. "She basically forced me to tell my dad that Mark was my boyfriend, which is awful. She used him as bait. That's fucked up, Graeme. I'm just glad Steve doesn't know Mark's dad. That is one man that never needs to know."

"I'm sorry," Graeme said.

"Yeah. I know you don't like him, but..."

"Hey, I am sorry," he replied. "So, I'm guessing your dad didn't take it well since you're here."

"I don't know how he took it," Tommy muttered. "He just glared at me and walked away. He didn't say anything at all, and I just felt humiliated. I've never felt like that before in my life. Not pertaining to this, anyway. What right does she have to just scream it at him because she's angry with me? Like I'm wrong, like I'm some sort of awful person for keeping it a secret."

"Tom, you aren't awful," Graeme replied.

"Yea, right," Tommy agreed sarcastically. "Well, if I'm not awful, than at least I'm stupid."

"You know you're not," Graeme said.

"No, I'm extremely stupid," Tommy disagreed. "I'm stupid for falling in love with Richard, and I'm stupid for thinking that my mum understood. I'm stupid for thinking my father might not care, and I'm stupid for getting Mark involved in this mess. That's it. You can't deny it, I'm daft. The evidence is there."

"I don't think so," Graeme replied. "Maybe you're just overreacting. Maybe he just needed some time to process the news."

Tommy gazed at him curiously. "Like he didn't already suspect? He just never asked, because he didn't want to know. You did not see the look on his face. The disgust. The disbelief. And my mum. She had been so happy just a few seconds before. I just wanted to leave her alone with it, but she had to drag it out of me, and then she was giving me that look. It's the only way she ever looks at me anymore."

"And what look would that be?" Graeme asked.

"The look that means I've broken her heart," Tommy sighed. He had enough talking for the afternoon. He wearily pushed himself away from the hug he was still entrenched in with Graeme and took a step away.

"I'm sorry to have bothered you o­n your holiday," he apologized.

"Oh, no, don't be," Graeme scoffed. "You saved me from my bastard brother."

"Glad to be of service," Tommy took a bow. As he straightened up he gave a little sniffle and wiped his eyes with his sleeve. He was crying again.

"Why don't you come in?" Graeme asked.

Tommy looked down at himself. He knew that his face must have been streaked red from all the crying he had been doing. He didn't know if he could face Graeme's family feeling as bad as he did. "I look shit," he announced. "And I couldn't possibly impose."

"No imposition," Graeme said. "We've got more than enough food to feed a small army."

"You have to feed a small army," Tommy pointed out. "I shouldn't. I should go home and face it. I can't run away forever."

"Yea," Graeme agreed. "But you can run away for a home cooked turkey dinner at least. The more the merrier, you know how my mom feels about that. Besides, we have pie!"

"Pie."

"Yeah!" Graeme slung his arm around Tommy and guided him towards the front entrance. "Pie makes everything better!"