This is a work of fiction. All characters and events are made up.
*****
Tom pulled his large suitcase off the luggage turnstile and headed toward the automatic doors. He was exhausted and his patience was on its last frayed string. Children ran past him screaming and giggling, people stood around and watched, travel weary. Tom wondered silently if running them over with his giant rolling home in a bag would do them any harm. But they were out of his sight before he could find out. He pushed his way through the crowds of people waiting for their bags and as the doors opened cold air hit him hard, nearly knocking the air out of his lungs. It would not be the first time, or the last, that he wondered if spending his entire holiday break in Boston was a good idea.
The honk of a horn caught Tom's attention and he looked in the direction it had come from. He recognized his mother's SUV immediately and smiled. She hugged him hard, holding on to him long enough for the airport police to request they move along. The heat was blasting inside the car and Tom knew this was for his own benefit. California had made him forget what it was like to be cold. That was just one of the many excuses Tom had tried to use when his mother begged him to spend his winter break at home.
"I am so glad you're here Tommy." She was smiling ear to ear. It made Tom feel warm inside.
His mother still lived in the house where Tom grew up, so when they pulled into the driveway of the two story craftsman with the white trim all his memories came rushing back to him. Learning to ride a bike. Falling a lot. His first broken bone. His first broken heart. They all happened here.
"The others should be here in the next few hours. The weather is making the drive a little longer than usual," his mother told him as they stepped inside the house. Tom was the only one of the kids who went West. His other siblings stayed around the area, New York, Pennsylvania, Ohio. They were all driving in for Thanksgiving. With their families. Well, except his half brother Danny. Who was still single. "Sorry, you are going to have to share your room with Danny," she continued. "We just don't have enough room for everyone anymore."
Tom's heart jumped for a beat. Danny. His mother's surprise. Tom was twelve when his mother brought Danny to the house and told he and his sisters that he was their brother. Why she had to be the one to tell them Tom still didn't know. Danny was two years older than Tom and the child of Tom's father and a woman that he'd had an affair with, fourteen years prior, as the math goes. Tom's mother agreed to raise Danny when his mother died of cancer. Tom still admires her for that. And while Tom's mother was happy to raise a house full of children, she had zero interest in continuing to raise her cheating husband, and kicked him out pretty soon after Danny's arrival.
Tom pulled his giant suitcase up a flight of stairs and carried it over the worn carpet toward his old room. His heart did another backflip as he stepped over the threshold and remembered the small space, with the trophies for varying sports feats and academic achievements. "Never believe the stereotypes." He remembered saying to his mother when he came out to her at seventeen, making her question everything she knew about what being gay meant.
The bed looked smaller than he remembered. Maybe it was because now he was being asked to share it with Danny. New memories flashed by his vision and he pushed those aside. Those he needed to keep hidden. Those he needed to suppress, now more than ever.
Tom's oldest sister Allison was the first to arrive. She looked like she had been through hell, Tom supposed driving eight hours with two kids under five and a husband with a penchant for random facts about random places would do that to a person. Amy, the second oldest, arrived with her family in tow, looking in about as good of shape as Allison had. Despite only having the one child who was ten. Melissa arrived shortly after with her husband and their dogs, whom they referred to as their 'instead of' children. The house was abuzz with activity. Tom entertained his nieces and nephews, a job he was suited greatly for. And although he enjoyed his time with them, he knew this was just an excuse to not sit by the door waiting for Danny walk through it.
It was long past bedtime and Tom had climbed under the covers in his footy pajamas he was glad he packed despite feeling like a child in them. He was considering putting on his winter coat as well. The house was warm, but the winter nights were too wintery for Tom's liking. He had forgotten how quickly the lack of sun turned everything to a deep chill. He was lying still under several blankets and covers trying to will himself warm when he heard the squeak of the door opening. He sat up to see who had come in, knowing the answer before he saw him.
"Sorry, didn't mean to wake you," Danny whispered.
"You didn't," Tom whispered in response.
Tom tried not to stare as Danny quietly set his bags down, grabbed a set of pajamas and disappeared again.
"How was the drive?" Tom asked when Danny slid carefully into bed next to him.
"Long," Danny answered. "It snowed the whole way. Damn, Tommy how many blankets are on here?"
Tom shrugged, though he knew Danny couldn't actually see him. "Sorry, I forgot how to be cold."
Danny laughed and peeled back three blankets, covering himself with the fourth. "Well you're going to have to relearn because it's going to be a cold winter."
Tom laid still, listening to Danny's steady breathing next to him. He held on to the blankets over him, reminding himself to stay on his own side. When he woke up in the morning he was roasting. He threw the covers off and sat up quicker than he meant to.
"What the hell are you wearing?" Danny's sleepy morning voice came from behind him.
"The warmest thing I had." Tom defended his choice of sleepwear.
"It's good to see you Tommy."
Tom turned toward Danny and everything rushed back into place. He had hoped the time away would change him. Change the feelings he had, since the day Danny turned up in his life. But it hadn't. If anything time and distance had made the feelings stronger. He took a deep breath and did what he had taught himself to do for many years. Suppress. "You too, Danny," he said with a smile and what he hoped was brotherly love.
By the time Tom made his way into the kitchen it looked like a tornado had ran through it. Thankfully the coffee pot was still in tact, and had what looked like just enough for one full cup still warming in it.
"That better not be the last cup." Danny's voice rang through the room. Tom was going to have to remember how to not react to hearing it.
"Here, this one's for you," Tom said as he poured the liquid into a mug, smiling at Danny like he was being the best brother ever. In truth Tom was glad to make a new pot, and have the first mug of it.
"Did you eat?" Danny asked as Tom made a new pot of coffee for himself.
"Not yet."
