18 No Thanks

There was an awkward silence as the teenagers entered the room and sat next to each other o­n the couch. Graeme did the introductions and once he was finished, slung his arm around Tommy and pulled him into an embrace. Tommy felt like he had no more energy to even protest. It wasn't an extraordinary gesture or statement coming from Graeme. Their default position when sitting together on that couch was to curl up together. It had become comforting and familiar, but they usually didn't have an audience apart from their parents and Graeme's brother, Guy. That audience was used to their closeness. The remainder of Graeme's brothers were not. Tommy mistakenly thought that Graeme had considered this when he'd pulled him into the embrace.

He had not. Graeme, as usual, was operating on autopilot without thought for what anybody else might think. It took Tommy a full five minutes as he sat there with his eyes closed and his head resting on Graeme's chest, to figure out that everybody in the room had stopped speaking and was staring at them. Feeling self-conscious, Tommy righted himself and straightened his shirt out.

"I'm okay," he whispered at Graeme. "Thanks."

"No problem, Slugger," Graeme replied, and ruffled his hair. Tommy couldn't help but chuckle at the familiar gesture and ridiculous pet name, and the smile that had been gone from his face had returned.

"Can I get you a soda or something?" Graeme asked.

Tommy nodded and Graeme departed for the kitchen only to return a few moments later with two colas in hand to find his eldest brother, Gary, and Tommy glaring at each other while the rest of the group was ignoring them and engaged in their own activities. Geoff was busy with his girlfriend, and Guy was staring at the ceiling along with Gordon.

"What's going on?" He asked as he sat down, setting the cans on the coffee table as he did.

"Nothing," Tommy grumbled without turning his head from Gary. "Your brother seems to have some sort of problem with me though."

"Oh, no." Graeme grabbed Tommy's shoulders in an effort to calm him, but Tommy only shrugged him off.

"What are you staring at?" He addressed Gary directly after a moment, his lips arched in a challenging scowl.

"I'm looking at you, boy," Gary replied in his loudest drill-instructor voice.

"Well, get your fill now, sweetheart, because you aren't getting any of this later," Tommy announced facetiously and blew him a kiss.

Guy suddenly wasn't so interested in the ceiling, and Geoff had turned away from his girlfriend's breasts long enough to gauge Gary's reaction. Graeme just burst into laughter, because he'd never seen Gary as flustered as he did in that moment. His mouth was flapping up and down like a fish out of water before he stood up and finally spoke.

"So now you're hanging out with fags then?" It was directed at Graeme, and not at Tommy.

"Excuse me! Hello?" Tommy stood up with his hands o­n his hips. "If you are going to be calling me names, you might as while do it to my face while I'm standing right here. I mean, it's more convenient for the both of us, wouldn't you agree? You can get it off your chest, and I don't have to find out about it later. This way I can take offense in person."

"Ok, fine, fag." Gary glared at him.

"Right then," Tommy said. "Now that we've cleared that all up, I think I'll be going. I'm not going to waste my breath o­n a miserable tosspot like you. Obviously, you have some issues to be discussed. If you're ever in London, I know someone who could point you to a good a therapist." He tossed Gary a wink. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I've had enough bollocking for one day. Thank you."

Gary seemed to have been driven mad by Tommy's banter and was standing there turning several shades of red as he screamed epithets straight into the boy's face. The only response he received in return was a yawn before Tommy turned away and departed the room, proclaiming that Gary's nonsense was boring and that he had much better things to do with his time. Guy, and Graeme followed quickly behind. Gary had to be subdued by his police officer brother, Geoff, who would have had no problem slapping the cuffs o­n his own brother if he'd have succeeded in breaking the choke hold that bound him to go after the trio.

Tommy paused at the door momentarily. He could have left right then, but he didn't really know where he would go. The Alexander's home was usually a safe haven from his problems. Home wasn't an option, and he didn't want to go to work feeling as badly as he did. He passed up the exit door and headed into Romey's sun room at the front of the house. It was a small room and filled with curios full of china dolls. He sat o­n the flower printed box seats, which were covered in plastic. They matched the antique looking plastic covered couch as well as the soft pink carpet. It was certainly a grandma room. He leaned his head against the window pane and stared out at the barren Nevada landscape. It was so brown and so dead. He missed London. There were no tumbleweeds in London.

"Would it do me any good to apologize for my brother?" Guy entered the room followed closely by Graeme, who shut the sliding wood doors behind him.

"No," Tommy muttered, and didn't bother to comment further as he curled his knees up to his chest and wrapped his arms around them.

Guy sat next to him o­n the box seat while Graeme took a tentative seat o­n the couch.

Guy commented anyway. "Gary was out of line. That was totally inappropriate, and I really do apologize."

"You don't get it," Tommy said. His hands were o­nce again nervously wrapped up inside his long sleeves.

"What do you mean?" Guy said. "I thought you handled the situation alright. You made him look like a complete ass. Not that that's hard to do, since he is a complete ass."

"That's just it," Tommy said. "There shouldn't be a situation, ok? That's the problem. That's the crux of the issue."

They paused to consider that for a moment before Tommy continued.

"I'm not going to get o­n my soapbox here," he said. "I know you two, and it would be like preaching to the choir. Let's just say I've been shouted at before, and laughed at behind my back. I've learned to cope. It still shouldn't happen, and it kills me a little every time it does. I just want to be myself. Why is that so hard for people to understand? I should go."

"Where you going to go?" Graeme asked.

"I don't know." Tommy stood up and paced listlessly. "I'm sure I can find some place."

With that he had decided to depart. The two youngest brothers saw him off before returning to the day's decidedly un-festive, festivities. Later that night as most had retreated to the living room, Graeme was helping his mother clean the dishes.

"Where's your friend?" She asked absentmindedly. She was unaware of what had happened earlier and had been informed that Tommy was going to stay for dinner. She was surprised when he hadn't shown up.

"He had to go," Graeme said.

"Home?" She asked. "I told you, Tommy is always welcome here, dear."

"I know." Graeme sighed. "He just... He needed to be alone today."

"But it's Thanksgiving," she said. "It's a time for family, and..."

Graeme held up a hand, and dropped the easiest excuse he could think of on her. "He doesn't celebrate it, Mom. Remember? He's English. He had a charity gig at the Square Box tonight besides. He had to go anyway."

His mother eyed him. "That's a bad place you know."

"Yeah?" Graeme rolled his eyes. "Because people go out and drink? Or because they have a good time?"

"There's the drugs at that place. Don't think I don't know it." She voiced her worry.

"So, who cares?" He grumbled.

"I care," she replied, "because I care about you, and maybe Tommy's mother should care more about what he's doing too."

"What do you know about their relationship?" He muttered, suddenly feeling rather angry with her for sticking her nose in and talking about someone behind their back.

"Oh, Graeme," she said.

"She does know, and he makes good money doing it," Graeme replied, feeling irritable. "And she trusts him. He doesn't have to be home by eight o'clock."

Romey shut off the faucets. "You want me to trust you? How can I do that when you come home completely wasted at God o­nly knows what time o­n a school night, Graeme! I think you need to show more responsibility before you can be trusted."

"Mom!" Graeme finished loading the dish washer. "That was o­nce. One time!"

"And o­ne time leads to two times," she replied, "and before you know it, you're homeless and out of a job."

"But I wouldn't be like that!" He leaned up against the counter. "I'm a good guitar player. I'd get in a band, and live off my girlfriend."

She smiled at his odd sense of humor. It was o­ne of his most endearing qualities, and she could always tell when he was joking. It was what he did when things got too serious. Besides that, he was showing her his big sweet grin, and she found it impossible to stay angry with him when his smile was lighting up the entire room.

"You're still grounded," she said as she removed an entire pumpkin pie from the fridge. "I saved you some." She sat the tin next to him and handed him a fork.

"Mom." He sighed as he poked listlessly at the pastry. It was just another reminder of Gary. He always made sure to demolish an entire pie before Graeme could get to it just because he knew it was the boy's favorite. He knew that was why his mother had saved him o­ne.

"Why does Gary hate me?"

"He doesn't hate you," Romey said. She was a mother after all, and she always turned a blind eye to the truth when it came to that aspect of her son's relationship with each other.

"Right." Graeme snorted in disbelief. "I'm serious. I get the distinct feeling that Gary would like to go all 'Joseph and the Technicolor Dreamcoat' o­n me and sell me into slavery."

"Don't say that," Romey gasped.

"But it's true." He insisted. "And I want to know why, and I want to know why nobody will tell me what the hell is wrong with everybody in this family. I know I was an accident, but I mean...It's fine when he takes it out o­n me, but he took it out o­n Tom today. I didn't want to tell you. That's why he left. Gary was really mean to him. It's my fault really, we were sitting on the couch like we always do. I didn't realize it was a problem. I wasn't thinking, and Tom wouldn't want me to tell you this, but it really hurt his feelings. I can handle Gary's shit, but Tom ca...doesn't deserve that!"

Romey was taken aback. "Why didn't you tell me! Graeme, I would have done something."

"You wouldn't have sent Gary away," Graeme muttered. "He's your kid. I get it. You have to love him.

"Graeme," She said, her tone serious. "I will not have a guest be insulted in this house. You should have told me. Your father and I will discuss this with your brother. I promise. I don't know where he learned to be like that."

"It was my fault," he said. "But whatever. Screw it. Geoff's new girlfriend gets to be all over him without being called a slut. I should be allowed to hug my best friend when he's feeling crappy."

"Yes," Romey agreed. "Watch your language please."

Graeme nodded at her and sighed. "He wouldn't have said anything if he didn't want to get under my skin though. Why is he like that? What did I do to him that was so bad? He's basically a stranger to me. Do you know how weird it is to have a stranger hate you for no reason?"

"Look." Romey placed an arm around her son and sat him down on a bar stool at the kitchen island. "I never wanted to tell you this," she said. "But at my age, I was an extremely high risk pregnancy, especial since I was completely unprepared for something like that. I'd already had five mostly adult children."

"You mean four, you cant possibly count Gary in the adult category," Graeme mumbled.

She reached across the table and brushed his long hair out of his eyes.

"Everybody advised against me going through with it," she whispered. "It was a very rough time. There was a lot of shouting, and your father and your brothers wanted me to save myself, because there was a very real chance that we both would have ended up dead. You obviously know what I decided to do, but you were very, very sick when you were born premature. That's why nobody took pictures or anything when you were a baby, they were all afraid that you would die and they didn't want anything to remind me if I pulled through at all."

"You almost died?" Graeme replied hollowly. "Because of me?"

"No," she said as a tear rolled down her face. "I lived because of you, and look at you. You grew up big and strong and healthy, and I'm so proud of you. I just want you to be safe and take care of yourself."

"But what about Gary?" Graeme asked. "Why does he care so much now? I haven't done anything to him. I don't even know him."

"I don't know, Graeme," she sighed. "Maybe he was just scared."

"Maybe he's just an asshole." Graeme shoved the pie back across the table. "If it's all right, I'd like to save that for when I've got more of an appetite."

She felt bad for him as he shuffled out of the kitchen. All her other sons had known what they wanted. They had all been average, yet they had known all along exactly what they wanted out of life, but Graeme was special. She knew he had talent, and she wished that he would see it and stop feeling so lost. She only wished that she could be the o­ne to show him the way.

****

Graeme trudged dejectedly into the midst of the gathering in the living room. He only wanted to join his family. All he ever wanted was to feel like he belonged there. As all the adults suddenly grew silent, and after what his mother had revealed, he knew that wasn't the case. He realized he wasn't a real person to them. He was just a topic of conversation.

"Well, if it isn't the Nancy boy come to join us," Gary commented and Graeme wanted to hide in his room and never come out again.

"Look, Gary." He forced the words out even though, after the way Tommy had been treated, he felt nothing but contempt for his older brother. "I'm sorry, ok? For the pain my conception seems to have caused to this family. Especially you."

"So she told you?" Gary stood up and faced the teenager. "I see."

"Yeah." Graeme confirmed, not pausing to note the silence that permeated the room. "But, I mean, everything's all right now, huh? Nobody died and everybody else seems to have forgiven me for being, so why can't you? You don't have to fucking chase my friends away."

All eyes were o­n him. It was his show all of a sudden and he wished with all his might that he could turn the brother that he hated and feared most into a wriggling mass of impotent rage as Tommy had done earlier. He couldn't though. There was o­nly enough self confidence left in him to stand there and apologize for something that wasn't even his fault.

"You're pathetic, boy," Gary spouted. "You may think it's easy to forget, but you didn't see what that woman went through, and for what? I don't know what she told you about it, but I'm sure the sugar coating tasted sweet, didn't it? The last thing a fifty-year old grandmother needed was another kid to raise, especially after you almost killed her. She never wanted You, Graeme. All these outside people filled her head with non-sense."

"It's not my fault," Graeme finally screamed at him. "How can you stand there and blame me? What have I done to you?"

Gary just looked condescendingly down upon him as if he were searching for the words that would hurt the most, and he was good at it. He'd been doing it for years.

"Did she tell you," he said. "That she made it all the way to the clinic before she turned back?"

Graeme stood there. He knew he should have been numb to Gary's words by that point, but he wasn't. It was a blow to find out that he had been moments away from not existing. Despite the fact that he couldn't remember the last time he had cried, he could feel his bottom lip start to tremble. It was a bad sign. He knew it wasn't going to be mere tears. It was going to be a maelstrom.

Look," Gary said. "I think the poor baby is going to cry."

He hated his brother in that moment and probably for the rest of his life. Gary took delight in tormenting the youngest everyone knew that, but there had always been a line, albeit a thin o­ne. It was apparent that it had just been crossed. The father commanded Gary to sit down. Graeme was struggling to keep control of himself in front of the group, but wasn't quite succeeding as choked sobs began to rack his entire body. The father crossed the living room carpet and slid his arm around his son's shoulder. Before he knew it, Graeme was led outside and spent a good half hour bawling o­n his father's shoulder and spewing out every curse word he knew aimed at an absent Gary. He usually would have gotten severely punished for using such language, but for that moment he was off the hook.

When he was done, he leaned back o­n the porch swing where they sat and stared out at the darkening Nevada sky.

"I don't know what his problem is," Michael Alexander admitted. "We've tried talking to him, but he won't explain. He won't listen, and what can we do? He's a grown man."

"That's debatable, Dad," Graeme croaked. He wanted to go to sleep and not discuss it either. His head was pounding. His nose was stuffed up and his hair was hanging limply, obscuring his red and puffy eyes.

"But what I don't think you understand is that your mother always wanted you. She was just reviewing her options. It was a hard time, a lot of hard decisions were made, and we wanted to spare you that. She never, ever really considered abortion. We're really lucky everything worked out the way it did. You're honestly a miracle, Graeme. You're mother and I love you."

Graeme wasn't used to hearing such language from his father so he didn't know how to respond. Michael had been such a non-entity in his life that he never spent time considering how the man felt about him. The o­nly thing he knew was that Michael wanted him desperately to join the family business. He said to save Graeme from himself, but Graeme didn't understand what that meant.

"I know you do," he finally replied. They sat in awkward silence. Graeme wasn't sure if he should stay or go, and he had an odd feeling his father had something else o­n his mind.

"I'm really tired," Graeme said, sneaking a glance over at the man.

"Graeme?" Michael looked at his son and inquired, "Are you and that boy..."

He left the words unsaid, but the question was asked just the same.

"That's nice, Dad," Graeme muttered as he stood up. "You know Gary is a liar, yet you believe that?" Graeme said, knowing full well that the notion would have never crossed the old man's mind had Gary not put it there.

"Would it matter to you if I was?" Graeme asked, and by not getting an answer an answer was had.

"I see," Graeme said as his father tried to protest the meaning of his silence.

He thought about what Tommy had said earlier about how there shouldn't be situations like the o­ne he was in at all, and he knew that his friend was right. For a moment Graeme felt a little resentment towards Tommy for bringing up his family issues just by showing up. It wasn't his fault though, Graeme knew, so he was quick absolve Tommy of any blame. He hadn't wanted anything but someone to go to when he was having a bad day, and Graeme was just glad that the person was him.

"Don't worry, Father," Graeme mumbled as he turned away. "I'm not gay."

*****

It was dimly lit at the Spiral Stairs. His eyes had grown accustom to the lighting though, and it matched perfectly the feelings that were dragging down his heart. It was getting harder and harder to pretend anything at all was okay. Even the safe haven of the Alexander's had been torn away from him. Things might have changed in London, but it couldn't possibly be worse than it was in Mesquite at that moment.

The bar stool beside him moved, jogging him out of his homesick thoughts. He could instantly tell by the posture of the man and the fact that he had chosen the adjacent stool rather than the many empty chairs and empty tables that peppered the entire club, that he was about to be chatted up.

It had been hours since the Shaina Spyder Band had played and her main corp of fans had long since vacated the area for greener pastures. The only ones left had been the sad and lonely that had nowhere else to go and nothing to do aside from sitting at a bar playing video poker.

Tommy felt like he fit right in.

The Stranger mustered up the courage to speak approximately two beers later.

"I saw you play earlier," he said. "You're pretty good."

"Thanks," Tommy muttered. He shifted nervously in his seat. It wasn't that flirting made him uncomfortable, it was only that a man had never done it at the Spiral Stairs. It didn't seem to attract the right kind of clientele for it.

Perhaps, he considered, the man was just being nice. He decided to test the waters.

"Really though, Shaina doesn't have any really difficult arrangements. I think I could play her songs in my sleep. You don't really seem like a Shaina Spyder Fan."

He laughed. "I'm not. I just had to get away from my family for a little while. I'm sure you know how that is."

Tommy nodded.

"Yeah, and this was the first place I saw that was open."

"Yeah? Cool. Cool," Tommy said. "Buy you a drink?"

He laughed again; a nervous laugh.

"You can't be old enough to drink," he said. "You don't look...err...as big as you do on stage."

"Yeah. Standing above people with a guitar does make you seem a bit larger than life," Tommy replied. He smiled, reached out, and lightly grasped the stranger's shoulder.

The man stiffened nervously under the touch. His smile faltered.

"How old are you?"

"Old enough," Tommy said. He ran his hand up and down the man's arm. "Why don't we get out of here?"

"I don't know your name," he murmured.

"You don't need to know my name," Tommy said.

He nodded.

"Alright!" Tommy jumped out of his seat. "Let's go then. You got a car?"

"Yeah."

Tommy marched away towards the exit then and the stranger followed along without any further prompting.

****

He didn't arrive home until nearly four o'clock in the morning. His father was waiting for him.

"Where the fuck have you been?" Steven asked.

"I've been out." Tommy grimaced. He felt like shit. He knew he'd made a mistake. He hadn't even made it to morning, so to speak, and he was filled with regret. On top of that, he was sore, wanted to take a shower and didn't want to have to deal with his father.

"Out where?" Steven growled.

"Where do you think I've been?" Tommy said, the challenge clear in his voice.

"I don't know," Steven said. "I don't know what you people do."

"You people?" Tommy arched an eyebrow. "Well first I went to Graeme's house and got called a fag by his brother, among other things, so I didn't stay there for too long. We people don't generally like that. So I went to work at the Stairs, had a gig with Shaina, got a bit pissed and let some guy screw me in the passenger seat of his car. It was a tight fit, and I don't mean the car seat."

"Go to your room," Steven growled. "You are not to come out until I've spoken to your mother."

"I'm not a child," Tommy calmly replied. "I can make my own decisions. I've been making them since you decided not to be a part of our lives, and I'm not going let you control my life just because you convinced my mother that she's better off with you. I've done fine without you for sixteen years. We both have in fact."

"You are under my roof, and you will do as I say," Steven roared. "You are to abide by the rules we have set for you and there isn't going to be a discussion about it. You're curfew is at two, Tom."

"No," Tommy stated. "I'm sorry I like music. I'm sorry I don't like the right kind of football. I'm sorry you don't approve. Oh, wait...no I'm not. Fuck you, DAD. I'm not going to lie for you because that's lying to myself. I love sex, okay? On the bed, up against a wall, going' down, comin' up, girls, boys, inside outside, hanging from the rafters. I'll try anything o­nce and I'm not going to stop now that I've started. I guess that does make me a slut then, huh?" He shrugged. "So you can take your rules and shove them up your arse. I promise it doesn't feel as bad as you might think."

"Room Now," Steven yelled and pointed the way up the stairs while fighting the urge to smack his teenage son.

Tommy shrugged again. "Okay, but if I"m gone in the morning. You can look for me o­n a street corner in Vegas."

*****

"You said what?" Graeme gasped at his friend as they sat under a tree during lunch time at school after the Thanksgiving holiday had run its course.

Tommy scowled and poked at his tuna salad. "I told him I was going to sell my body in Vegas."

"Why the hell would you want to do that?" Graeme shook his head.

"Uh, yeah." Tommy laughed. "I don't want to do that! I wouldn't. I'll keep what little self respect I have left intact; thank you very much. I mean, I can't believe I said that shit. I told him I was a nympho-slut in no uncertain terms, and I'm not. I don't even know what came over me. I'm certainly not going to win any favor by telling him how much I like to have sex hanging from the ceiling."

"Oh, really?" Graeme's eyed him. "Wouldn't that require some kind of...apparatus?"

Tommy giggled. "Come on. I'm not that adventurous. It was like I couldn't exaggerate big enough."

"You wanted to shock him, and I'm guessing you were a little mashed," Graeme said. "You're probably the least slutty person in school."

"I don't know about that, but I can count the number o­n o­ne hand." Tommy held up four fingers. "Two of each, aren't I all about equal opportunity? That bloke last night, though..." he shuddered. "The bloke. I don't even know his name. I told him we didn't need names. What the fuck kind of person goes out into the desert with a stranger without even asking his name?"

"What did he look like?" Graeme asked. "Was he old?"

"Old enough," Tommy admitted. "Honestly Graeme, he was at least twenty-one, but if I'd have to wager a guess he was probably in his mid twenties, nine or ten years older than me. Don't get me wrong, it's what I wanted. He didn't do anything I didn't ask him to. I mean, I chatted him up. I led him to believe I was older than I am. I thought it would make me feel better to reassert my sexuality through, well, sex. It didn't. It just made me feel like a whore, a two bit fuckin' whore. It was alright, but it was just sex. I'm pretty sure this poor sod had about as much experience with one night stands as I do. I mean we met at the Spiral Stairs. It's not some kind of gay mecca by any means, and I came on really strong."

"Man," Graeme said. "Your boyfriend is going to be pissed. Why didn't you go to his house? Doesn't he put out?"

"He..." Tommy trailed off. He had forgotten all about Mark and that, in two months time, Graeme still hadn't managed to figured it out. He sighed and hugged his knees to his chest. If Graeme wanted to stumble around in willful oblivion then that was fine with Tommy. He wasn't even going to defend his own honor. There was no honor in what he had done and he cringed whenever he thought of the drunken nonsense he had spewed at his father the night before. He didn't care whether or not Graeme thought he was a cheater because, even though he was beholden to no one, he still felt like one.

"Right." Graeme noted Tommy's sudden silence. "I thought four was a bit of a conservative estimate, but you don't want to talk about it?"

"How do you even know we've fooled around?" He murmured automatically.

"I didn't for sure, but I do know." Graeme laughed. "Come on, you guys have been dating forever in teenager years. Why didn't you tell me in the first place? Details, man. I'm your best friend."

"I didn't think you'd want them."

"Oh, I want them alright." Graeme nodded affirmation which caused Tommy to laugh.

"Great. Look Graeme. He's having a hard enough time with this as it is. Let's just keep our mouths shut and not discuss it anymore. You're really the only one who knows we dated, so let's keep it at that, shall we? Can't we talk about anything else?"

"Can we talk about 'That Guy'?" Graeme asked. "I mean, was he..." He cast his eyes downwards then back up at Tommy with a smirk.

"Oh, christ." Tommy giggled. "All the details, huh?"

Graeme nodded.

"I love you; you know that right?" Tommy grinned at him. "None of my other straight friends would ever..."

"I'm not everybody else, man." Graeme laughed.

"That's for sure," Tommy said.

The conversation stalled and Tommy took the moment to lie down on the grass. He rested his head on Graeme's thigh and Graeme unconsciously began to play with his blond locks.

"I can't believe you told your dad you were a slut," Graeme chuckled after a moment. "How long are you under house arrest for that outburst?"

"He's never going to let me go to California with Shaina this summer now," Tommy said. "I'll have to run away from home for real, because that's a fantastic opportunity."

"You can take me with you," Graeme sighed wistfully. "My family certainly doesn't want me around."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Oh." Graeme frowned, his mood becoming sober. "Nothing. Just..."

"Come on." Tommy nudged him. "All the details? It goes both ways, you know."

"Like you?"

"Hah, Hah. Come on." Tommy avoided Graeme's deflection tactic and locked his eyes on him.

"Nothing, just... My mom was like, two seconds from terminating her pregnancy of me because of complications. Whatever that means. I guess I could have killed her or something. I was sick when I was born. She was old. It was really hard for her. I'm just feeling a little unwanted right now."

"Hey," Tommy murmured. "I want you."

"You wish." Graeme laughed and tugged lightly on Tommy's hair.

"Oww!" Tommy laughed with him until it was once again silent.

"We're quite a pair, aren't we?" Tommy said after a while.

"Yeah," Graeme agreed. "But at least we've got each other."