"Gobble—gobble" I joke sneaking up and reaching my arms around Peter's waist while playfully kissing his neck. Surprised at the sudden action he squirms, and then relaxes when he realizes what's going on.
"Happy Thanksgiving to you too" he says turning around. His eyes seem sad, and I gaze into them trying to figure out what they're trying to tell me. Whenever Peter hides things from me, I can always count on his eyes to tell me the truth. If they look hurt—he talked to his dad. If they look lost—he talked to his mom. If they look jubilant—he talked to a friend from home. If they look innocent—he talked to his little sister. They look like a mix of everything. So I give him a look—he knows exactly what it means—and he starts to tell me.
"You know how I told you that I wanted to stay here with you for Thanksgiving?" I nod, "Well, I got off the phone with my mom, who is trying to guilt trip me into coming home right now. I told her it was way too late, I was happy here and that the school had already made Thanksgiving plans for the kids who were staying,. So she puts me on the phone—with everyone in our family. Aunt Mae, Aunt Claire, Aunt Julia, Uncle George Jr., Uncle Joshua, Uncle "I'm in the closet, and will never come out" Bill," He pauses to catch his breath and continues, "Grandma, Granny, Grandpa, Grandpa George Sr., all of the cousins: Grace, Meghan, Samantha, Katharine, George III, Jack, Nelson, and Dalton. Not to mention how she "put the dog on the phone" and he "barked" to me, and told me how much he missed me. Which was really her going, "Rarrr-Petraaar. I woof woof miss you. Rarrrwf," it didn't even sound like him. Needless to say, after suffering through talking to all of those people—which took an hour—I told her I still didn't want to come. Now she's "very disappointed that you would rather stay up at that school of yours to hang out with your friends, more then coming down to see your family,"—"that school of yours"—I mean hello, she's the one that made me come here. After that she kind of just hung up on me" he sighs, and I realize that he hasn't even soaked up the entire conversation yet.
"I'm sorry" is all I can say at first, "but look, if you want to go back there, I'll be fine, don't just stay for me. Nadia and I are used to eating Thanksgiving alone here." I rub his back and realize that he's been crying.
"She knows Jason—I know she knows. There's no way she doesn't. That's what bothers me most. My mom would rather have a miserable, lying and pretending to be straight son, opposed to a happy, cheerful and honest gay son. Are we really that bad?" I want to lie to him—tell him no—but I tell the truth instead.
"Maybe, I'm still trying to figure out what it all means myself. But let's not think about that today. Let's be happy, cheerful and honest." I kiss him on the cheek, and he nods his head agreeing with my statement.
"I love you" he says smiling at me.
"The feeling is mutual" I continue to kiss his face, slowly making my way down to his lips, I begin to undress him while he kisses me back. His shirt is now off and—knock, knock, knock. Shit. Scrambling we try to throw ourselves together.
"Who is it?"
"It's Nadia. I was sent up to tell everyone that the food is ready, so you should hurry up before I eat it all. By the way, there are about three other kids that stayed behind—all younger then us." I make a mental note to remind her that she makes fun of herself way too much.
"We'll be down there in a second" I look in the mirror to fix my hair. Peter's reflection appears next to mine and I look at him standing next to me. He looks like himself again. Outside the mystic clouds have created an overcast wonderland. One that reminds me of youthful winters spent swinging on that old tire that still hangs in our yard.
"There's a tradition that has been celebrated since the first year this school opened. Everyone who stays over this break has to go around the table and say what they are most thankful for." I hold his hands in mine and fantasize about all the ways I can show him thanks. He knows it.
"We can't…we'll be late" Peter smiles at me and we walk out the door.
When we reach the dinning hall I scan the crowd and make note of who is in attendance. I can tell—by looking at each one—why they didn't go home for the break. There is a petite red haired girl, I've scene her before. She has flawless skin, and a charming smile. "I'm thankful for not failing P.E."—translates into "I'm thankful Dad still hasn't gotten a chance to hit me this year."
Then there's a primped up blonde—a future Ivy—as Peter has described her before, "I'm thankful for my new friends" translates into "I'm thankful that I can pretend to be happy"
The only one who I have talked to before is a junior named Carter; he has curly brown hair that is too big for his head, "I'm thankful for God giving me the chance to live" translates into "I'm thankful that I get wasted every night."
Nadia goes next and she takes a long time to think of something. "I'm thankful for having such a great figure" translates into "I really am not thankful for anything that's been happening lately—so I'll cover it up by making fun of myself."
"I'm thankful for having such a wonderful roommate" translates into "I'm fucking him"
"Me too" translates into "And I enjoy every moment of it" Everyone laughs thinking that we're just two best friends joking around, we laugh it off like that too.
When dinner is over we all lazily walk upstairs. The sun that once shone proudly in the sky had retired and the moon had taken over. She lit the ground quietly and gorgeously falling over every flower and casting beautiful night shadows. As we walk into the room Peter locks the door behind us. I walk over and kiss him.
"I love you Jason"
"I love you too Peter"