It was a soothing voice that licked at his ear -- a voice full of friendship and insight. Of resilience and hope. “Lance? Come on now. Get on up.” Lance lay in the wet sand with his eyes screwed shut and his palms flat at his sides. Dizziness surrounded him, and only Justin’s voice seemed to be able to pull him back in. “Why?” he asked, his tone flat and dull. “Get up so I can hear all about how this is for my own good maybe? So you can tell me that November is up and I’m not needed anymore?” It was pity speaking, Lance knew -- some horrible form of self pity spewing from his lips. A slow whine much like a child’s. “Don’t you fucking ... My GOD!” Justin was terse -- shattered as he tried to speak, and Lance let his eyes flicker open at the strange sound. The sound of Justin splitting apart. Slowly he sat up and turned. To face the man who had been his teacher -- his lover -- his friend. Surprised to see the watery eyes filled with agony that gazed back down at him. It made his stomach lurch in mirrored pain -- in a misery that told him he was being self-centered and nasty again. Maybe he needed to back up and take a breath, let Justin explain to him why he’d called JC -- why he was being dismissed when he was supposed to be giving thanks at a feast. “Lance, I have to let you go,” Justin cried, his lower lip trembling as the fall wind whipped his sweatshirt around his body. “It was a November thing. I did what I set out to do.” Fury flushed over Lance and his cheeks blushed as he scrambled to his feet. “What’s that, Justin? You set out to fuck with me? To make me love you then turn me away?” The tremor in the bass of his voice rumbled and his fists curled at his side. But Justin’s face folded suddenly -- his eyes lowered and his jaw fell open. Stunned. Hurt. “I never wanted to hurt you, Lance,” he whispered, wiping at the tear the slipped down his cheek. “But you have to go now. Go back to New York with JC. Take what I taught you and let my legacy live on.” A thousand hurricanes swirled inside Lance as Justin spoke -- as Justin laid it out on the table with such finality. Not giving him a chance to object. Giving him only what he’d learned in return. “No!” Lance shouted defiantly, lunging forward to grab Justin’s arms. “No! I’m not leaving you!” Desperation ricocheted through him as he shook Justin. “Look at me!” he screamed, feeling his insides wilt. “Fucking LOOK AT ME!” Justin pulled his face up, his eyes reading so much loss. A silent pain that he was ready to face because he knew he’d done his job. Justin knew he’d saved Lance from a life of loneliness and stress. And he knew all the anguish would someday fade as Lance grew older -- and hoped he would finally see the lesson clear as day, and smile at it. “I’m not leaving,” Lance said evenly, yanking Justin to him. “I’m not leaving you! I’ll stay and take care of you. I’ll cook and clean and ...” “No!” Justin cried, pushing away. “That’s not what I want! It’s not what I need!” Justin wandered a few feet away, letting the surf lap at his shoes. He wrapped his arms around his chest and Lance could see him sigh repeatedly, as if he was trying to regain composure. As if he was trying not to feel so fucking much. Lance rubbed his hand over his face. Confusion ruled him. He had no clue what Justin wanted -- why his body spoke words that seemed to tell him one thing, but his mouth betrayed that motion with motions of its own. Like Justin really wanted him to stay. But was fighting it for some reason. So Lance moved forward to touch -- to feel the person who had made him see light where there was once only darkness. “Tell me what to do,” Lance begged, resting his chin on Justin’s shoulder. He wrapped his arm around Justin’s waist and pulled him close. “Tell me what you want. I’ll do it. I’ll die for you, Justin. I’ll be whatever you need.” Powerful words that seemed to crawl from the deepest recesses of his soul, but Lance meant them. And Justin felt it intensely -- it made him shake. “I want you to go on, Lance,” he whimpered gently, letting his head fall back to touch Lance’s. “I want you to go back to New York so I can rest knowing that you saw the best of me. Knowing that I got to show you life.”  He turned, rotated his body maintaining the closeness with Lance’s -- needing to feel it for a while longer. “Do this for me,” Justin said with a smile. “Come in and celebrate with us. Then go home with JC and show him what you’ve gained.” Justin pressed his palm to Lance’s chest and sighed. “Show him how big that heart is. How you’ve learned to laugh and relax. Cook him dinner and make love to him. Cherish the love I know you share.” Lance wobbled as Justin spoke, scared to go. Scared to stay. Frightened that Justin would call out for him in the dead of night while he was in New York. Fearing that when Justin passed, he would be laughing unknowingly. Afraid that loving JC again would mean forgetting Justin. “I don’t know how,” Lance said shakily, his eyes burning hotly, his skin goose-fleshed from the chilly breeze. “I don’t think I can ...” “Of course you can,” Justin grinned, letting his tears fall freely to show he cared, but maintaining eye contact with a firm expression. “You have the know how. You’ve shown me that the Lance I met so many years ago still exists.”  He reached out and stroked the side of Lance’s face, letting his palm cup around the cheek that fell into it. “You’re amazing, Lance. My brother. One of five. And soon there’s only going to be four brothers remaining.” Justin paused to clear his throat -- to settle the lump that involuntarily formed there. “You need to take care of them. You need to keep me alive by bringing the brotherhood back. I know you can.” The sob cut Lance deeply as it made it’s way out of his chest -- as his arms flung around Justin to hold on. To grasp at him with an unwillingness to let go. There was a tingle that burned Lance’s skin, making his blood prickle with an inevitable loss. A loss that was to come. Lives that would have to go on. A tie that he never wanted to sever. “I was wrong,” Lance admitted, burying his face in the crook of Justin’s neck. “I was wrong to let go of you all last year. To say ‘fuck it’ and go on. I tried not to ever look back, Justin. And I missed out on you. On time. On this.” “But you’re love lies with JC,” Justin reminded him. And he pulled Lance as close as he could, as close as their bodies could be. “He treasures you, Lance. And I think you treasure him. You just didn’t know exactly how. But now you do. Now you can have a full life with him. Spend time out to renew that love.  Take him to dinner and go for long walks. Stop to smell the flowers and stare at the stars. Make your wishes on those falling stars. Maybe raise a kid or two.” Lance sobbed, cried tears until hiccups racked his rib cage.  He forced his face to Justin’s flesh and clung onto every second, every breath and every scent. “And maybe,” Justin chuckled as he stroked Lance’s hair. “Maybe you can tell your kids about me sometime. Show them pictures of N Sync. Teach ‘em how to beat box or some shit.” Lance laughed, even though he didn’t want to. His heart was pounding and his body was weak. “I hated the damn beat box,” he said through a sniffle. He backed up a bit and licked his lips. “It was so cocky.” “Just like me!” “No, Justin. You were never cocky. Misunderstood perhaps.” Lance traced Justin’s lips delicately, watching as his eyes fluttered closed. “But always golden. Like some kind of angel God put here to teach us all. And you did.” He leaned in with lips moist from tears and kissed Justin. “Message received.” They stood in a solid embrace for many minutes -- until their tears receded -- until their souls mended. Until it was a clear understanding of what was expected and desired. The ocean lulled at them, promising to keep the memories of Justin and Lance’s November alive. Sending them peace of mind as they made their way back to the beach house in a tranquil silence. Feeling the heart beats of each other instinctively. Knowing that they were connected in the deepest of ways. ******** JC had been amazing through dinner, chatting animatedly about music, laughing with Justin over memories of song writing. Keeping his leg firmly pressed against Lance’s -- as a sign of hope -- of longing. And Lance got it. He understood the connection with JC that he had pushed away. So he responded with tiny touches, and special smiles. As Justin watched. As Justin raised his wine glass to toast them. It was so easy to laugh with his friends. To watch Justin carve the turkey, and clap his hands when Chris cracked a joke. It was easy to fall into memories of the past where they seemed to laugh all the time. Where pranks and jokes flew daily, and a brotherhood existed that rivaled no other. To remember times when they were on top of the world. And only the five of them could truly understand each other. Blood on blood. It was harder to trudge up the steps to the loft and take a final look around. Look up through the skylight that had provided such a sense of the heavens at night. See the bed that taught him so much about love. Look at the clothes that scattered about on the floor in a haphazard way -- free to lie there until laundry felt like being done. Unrushed. Unhurried. It was Justin’s arms around him suddenly, clasping a brand new cross about his neck. A platinum cross with the words “Sweet November” etched on the back. “It’s my gift to you,” Justin had said, holding Lance. “To remember this month. This life. This time.” “I don’t know how to say good-bye,” Lance had admitted, curling into Justin’s touch. “Then don’t. Not good-bye. How about ‘see ya later’?” And it was a final kiss that sent Lance into a place where he could breath again. One final touch of flesh that started life anew. ************ ‘See ya later’ was the hardest, Lance decided, as he stood barefoot in the chilly sand at dusk. As he gazed out over the crashing waves, alone, composing himself for the trip back. Because later meant never seeing that smile again in person. Later meant another lifetime. Later was a hell of a long time away. “Darlin’, JC is waiting.” Lance turned to see Britney walking toward him, her mohair sweater pulled tautly around her frame. “He’s saying good-bye to Chris now.” “Good-bye,” Lance sighed, squatting on his haunches. “It’s a hard word, Brit.” He scooped up a handful of sand and let it slip through his fingers, casting his gaze out over the water, squinting as the wind whipped at his hair, blowing it around carelessly. His green eyes burned with unshed tears and the cross around his neck pressed to his skin comfortingly. The knot was still in his gut, gnawing at him. Feeling the end of his stay hard at work. “What if he needs me?” he dared ask as the sand scattered to the wind. “I don’t like the idea of him here alone.” Britney knelt beside him, wrapping her arms around his stomach. “Honey, he’s got Chris and I. We’re not far. He can stay with us if he needs to. I’m here daily, you know that.” She rested her head on his shoulder and brushed her lips at his neck. “He’ll live on, Lance. Through you. Through me. Through us all.” Lance leaned into the strength that radiated from her. “He’s taught me so much. I was so blind.” “He’s taught us all,” she whispered, as the seagulls cried overhead, sounding off in waves of unity. “He loves you, Lance, as he loves JC. His friends are his life. And he’s lived in God’s eyes. If God wants him, he can go now with the realization he made things good with his two best friends.” The words accepted into Lance’s heart, settling sweetly along with his lessons, preparing for the journey home where he knew he had so much more to learn. Glad he had JC by his side to help him. Relenting to the idea that while things wouldn’t always be perfect, he could make them as close to perfect as possible. For JC. For him. For Justin’s memory. “Where is he?” Lance said, as he stood up, his windbreaker slapping around him. His eyes scanned the beach and he thought he saw Justin. A shadow of him with Baby. Far away running in the sand. Watching him perhaps. Having already said his good-byes in the bedroom. Lance leaned forward to see -- in hopes of catching on more view of him. One lasting image to keep in his head forever. “He’s around,” Britney said mysteriously, lifting her face to the sky. “He’ll always watch over you, Lance. Always.” “Call me?” Lance asked, grabbing Britney into a bear hug. “Call me from time to time but don’t let him know. If he knows, he’ll worry. But I’ve got to know, alright? Please?” “Of course, honey. Chris and I will keep in touch.” She patted his back as he held her, quite aware that his eyes were drifting -- aching for that last picture. “You go on now,” Britney sighed, breaking the embrace. “Your flight leaves soon.” It was so quick, Lance thought, as he nodded and headed into the beach house. JC showing up and having to say his good-byes to Justin. On Thanksgiving. And mostly it made sense because he was giving thanks in the biggest of ways. As he stuffed his hands into the pockets of his jeans, he lowered his head and climbed over the dune. One final glance and he saw the brilliant blue in Justin’s eyes staring back at him. A phantom perhaps, as he was too far away to actually make anything out. But the warmth was there, and the love. “Bye Justin,” Lance whispered, pausing to smile. “Thank you.” sweet november 11 menu sweet november 13