An Australian Christmas in New York

An Australian Christmas in New York * Sean Kennedy

THE apartment door crashed open, and Vince immediately burst through it. The room always seemed filled as soon as he entered it, not so much because of his size but because of his natural boisterousness. He stared at Chuck lying on the couch, his brow furrowed in a mixture of displeasure and disbelief. “I don’t believe it!” he cried. “It’s colder in here than it is out there, and that’s saying something!” Chuck grinned and closed his book. “I think the heat’s on the fritz again.” “Again?” Vince demanded. “Name me a time when the damn thing’s actually worked.” “We’re paying for the view more than the utilities,” Chuck said, an oft-repeated mantra that hoped to justify their extravagant rent. “Then we got shafted.” “Aww, come here and get warm.” Chuck lifted a corner of the blanket he was burrowed under and indicated that Vince should crawl in with him. It didn’t take much to persuade Vince. He kicked off his shoes and threw his jacket across the room before running over and tackling Chuck, pushing him further into the couch. Chuck made a feeble protest as he was crushed under Vince’s weight, but he could barely squeak out any resistance. 2

An Australian Christmas in New York * Sean Kennedy “Am I too heavy for you?” Vince asked without remorse. “Love you… just the way… you are…,” Chuck wheezed. Vince shifted his weight so that Chuck was no longer being crushed and wedged himself more in-between his partner and the back of the couch. Sofa, he reminded himself. They call the damn things sofas over here. He had been in the Big Apple for four years now, but he still couldn’t change certain words to fit in more linguistically with the natives. Chuck still looked at him, waiting for the punch line, when he told Chuck he was going down to the deli for milk. A deli’s where we go for pastrami on rye, Chuck would reply patiently. Or how about looking for the trolley when they went to the supermarket? No, that’s a cart. And we go grocery shopping. Yeah? Vince had replied snottily. What you call a trolley, we call a tram anyway. And you know exactly what I mean, we’ve been together for long enough. I know, Chuck always said. I just like you when you get all red and flustered. You actually have to be born here to be considered a true New Yorker, so just be yourself. It wasn’t like Chuck was a true New Yorker either; he had come from State College, Pennsylvania. But at least he had the lingo down enough to be able to truly blend in. “I can hear your brain clanking,” Chuck said, interrupting Vince’s trip down memory lane. Vince didn’t reply; he just nuzzled against Chuck’s neck, taking in that sweet smell he couldn’t exactly describe but was ultimately so… 3

An Australian Christmas in New York * Sean Kennedy Chuck. His partner with the all-American name and boyish demeanor that made him seem to come straight out of some Hollywood goldenage family drama. The boy next door. Who just happened to like boys. “Talk to me,” Chuck said. “What’s on your mind?” Vince’s hand snaked beneath Chuck’s shirt and rested against the warm skin of his chest. “You.” “That’s sweet,” Chuck said, grinning. “But you’re full of it.” “Well, I always think of you,” Vince protested. “I don’t think I even want to know.” Vince lifted the hem of Chuck’s shirt and kissed his belly. “Really?” Chuck reached down and took Vince’s face in his hands, cupping it gently. “Spill it.” This time Vince blew a raspberry against Chuck’s belly. Then he looked back up at him. “You know I love New York, right?” Chuck laughed. “I’ve heard you call it a shithole full of assholes quite a few times, but it’s usually with affection.” “Right,” Vince said earnestly. “But today on the subway, it just got to me.” “What?” “That everyone’s getting ready for Christmas, and I’m not.” Chuck rubbed his shoulder. “There’s still plenty of time to get ready for Christmas.” “What I mean is I’m not feeling it this year. Usually by this time, I’m getting excited just thinking about it. I’m already planning gift lists and thinking about putting the tree up… I’m just kind of—” he 4

An Australian Christmas in New York * Sean Kennedy struggled for the right word to signify the depth of meaning, “—eh… right now.” “Why?” Vince pulled away so that he could sit up properly, and Chuck had to rearrange his legs so Vince could fit on the other end of the sofa. “This is going to be my fourth Christmas here. And the first few have been really exciting. Different, I guess, from what I’m used to. They’ve been the stereotypical white Christmas, like you see on movies.” Chuck’s brow furrowed, showing he didn’t really get the problem. “But this is a good thing, right?” “It was fun,” Vince said, once again trying to choose his words carefully, this time so as not to offend the man he loved. “Was?” Chuck asked, and Vince could tell he was already getting his back up. “Well, it still is. Who doesn’t like snow and rugging up and having to wear mittens and scarves while throwing a quarter into Santa’s bucket outside Macy’s? While chestnuts roast on the streets and get sold to you in little brown paper bags? It’s like a Norman Rockwell painting come to life. Until you get asked by someone if you want to buy crystal meth.” “You’ve never been asked to buy crystal meth,” Chuck scoffed. “I was just trying to add some New York flavor,” Vince said. Chuck whacked him. “So, Christmas is becoming too Christmasy for you, then?” “I wouldn’t say that exactly,” Vince stated thoughtfully. “It’s just 5

An Australian Christmas in New York * Sean Kennedy not my Christmas.” “Is this going to devolve into another America versus Australia debate?” Chuck asked warily, as it was a common theme whenever Vince got homesick. “We’ll always win because we have Vegemite and kangaroos,” Vince said matter-of-factly. Chuck threw a cushion at him. “You’re lucky you ever evolved as a nation with that foul thing you think is a condiment.” “It’s not a condiment!” Vince told him for the millionth time. “It’s a spread!” “Wikipedia says it’s a condiment.” “And that’s why you shouldn’t believe everything Wikipedia tells you. It was probably some Yank who wrote it in the first place.” “Do you realise when you call us Yanks you sound like some Southerner who still thinks the Civil War is going on?” “Well, stop picking on Vegemite!” “It tastes like mold,” Chuck muttered. “Not even mold—in fact, I’d rather eat mold.” Vince glowered. “That can be arranged.” Chuck began to laugh. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt the feelings of a yeast spread.” “Can you stop talking about Vegemite and listen to me?” Chastened, Chuck nodded. “Continue.” But now Vince was distracted. “Mum’s relief package should be coming soon. Which means more Vegemite, some Cherry Ripes and Twisties. And there better be Tim Tams.” 6

An Australian Christmas in New York * Sean Kennedy “Now Tim Tams, they’re good,” Chuck agreed. “You’d sell your soul for anything with chocolate on it.” “True. I can’t believe your mom still sends you relief packages.” “You’ve seen how much they charge to buy that stuff over here!” “I’ve also seen how many REESE’S Peanut Butter Cups you can chow down, so I’d think you could survive on them if you had to,” Chuck teased. “Yeah, well let’s see you survive in Australia if you didn’t have access to Cherry Coke or ingredients for s’mores,” Vince reminded him. Chuck slapped his cheeks in a rather poor Macaulay Culkin imitation. “Life without s’mores!” He leaned in and pulled Vince against him again. “Life isn’t that bad here, is it?” “Of course not,” Vince said. “Just missing the homeland today, that’s all.” “What’s so special about an Aussie Christmas, anyway?” Chuck asked, and Vince could tell from his tone that he was only joking. More than likely he was trying to get him to open up and get it all off his chest. He decided to oblige him. “The weather, for one thing. You wake up in the morning, and it’s already stinking hot. You put on shorts and a tee, and you’re drinking beer by ten.” “Are all Australians alcoholics?” Chuck mused. “It’s Christmas Day! You’re allowed to drink by ten, just like a box of Cadbury Roses can be your breakfast if you really want it to be. Besides, Aussies know how to hold their booze, mate. You open your presents, have a fried breakfast with lots of bacon and eggs, and you 7

An Australian Christmas in New York * Sean Kennedy get started on the beer. You’ll then go on to the cheese and onion chips and French onion dip while the main meal is cooking. The kids will have a swim in the pool because they’ll already be sick of their new toys, and it’s too hot to do anything but swim. The air conditioning will be cranking in the house, trying to fight against the oven, and the men will be standing about in the backyard fighting over who gets the honor of doing the meats on the barbecue.” Vince could feel himself sinking into a reverie as he recounted what happened every year—in fact the only things that seemed to changed were the heights of the kids, the size of the waistline of the adults (and the numbers of grey hairs they had), and the extravagance of whatever toys were popular that year for delivery by Santa. Chuck was listening attentively, even though he had heard it all before. “Soon enough everything will be ready, and even though it’s a hundred degrees and the sweat is rolling down our faces, we will still sit down to a full-cooked roast and veggies with gravy. Everybody will be flushed with heat, but no one will complain. Crackers will be pulled, and silly hats worn, and the jokes that come with the crown will be told, and everyone will find them funny even though they’re not.” “I think that part of Christmas is pretty much universal,” Chuck said. “Just like the toy in the cracker is pretty much guaranteed to suck and be thrown out with the crown.” Vince laughed. “True. But you can’t have a Christmas without them.” “It would be too weird.” “Anyway, after the crackers, there will be two desserts.” “Gluttons,” Chuck teased. 8

An Australian Christmas in New York * Sean Kennedy “Well, you have to have the plum pudding with brandy sauce and custard. Otherwise, what’s the point of having Christmas at all?” Vince smiled to himself. It wasn’t even like he was a fan of plum pudding, but to have the big dinner without it would have been tantamount to sacrilege. “But you can’t go without Mum’s trifle either.” “I don’t know how that thing can be delicious, from what you’ve said before it sounds ridiculous.” “Says the man whose dad deep frys Twinkies every Thanksgiving.” “Now, that’s a tradition.” Chuck was practically salivating at the thought. Vince was having his own Pavlovian dog-like response to the vision of a bowl of trifle before him. Jam roll and fruit soaked in port wine jelly, then layered with cream and custard, and topped off with a broken-up flake—chocolate shavings for those not in the know. Best dessert in the world, and especially perfect for a hot summer’s day. And nobody could make it like his mum—why could mums only make certain things so well? “After the cleaning up, everyone retreats to their own corners for a while. Either to sleep or play with whatever they got that day. Then in the afternoon you swim, drink more beer, and eat leftovers as the sun starts to go down and the Fremantle Doctor comes in.” Chuck looked blank, obviously expecting further clarification. “Do you ever listen to anything I tell you?” Vince chided him. “It’s what we call the wind that comes in the afternoon and cools down the city.” “Like El Niño?” Chuck asked. Vince rolled his eyes. “Yeah, exactly like El Niño.” 9

An Australian Christmas in New York * Sean Kennedy Chuck lived up to his name with a low chuckle. “You are too easy to tease sometimes.” “You shouldn’t be teasing me when I’m obviously in such a fragile state,” Vince complained. “Okay.” Chuck held up his hands in surrender. “Look, I can understand why you’re feeling homesick this year. But it’s like you said, the excitement’s worn off now. That’s only natural. But I promise you, when the day itself comes, you’ll get your mojo back.” “My mojo?” Vince laughed. “Maybe I will.” “That’s the spirit. That’s the Aussie guy I know and love.” “Don’t be such a sap.” “I’m a sap? You’re the one wanting your mommy.” “It’s called sooking back home.” “Well, stop sooking. Our Christmas will put Hallmark movies of the week to shame.” Vince decided he would let himself be mollycoddled, but he couldn’t help but think of the extreme heat of the sun glinting off the waves of an over-chlorinated pool while smells of a roast dinner floated in from the kitchen. The sights and sounds of a true Aussie Christmas.

* * *

THE countdown to Christmas began to speed mercilessly towards its inevitable arrival. It got colder, and Vince felt the marrow in his bones grow icy. It wasn’t natural. The days should be heating up, and families should be clustering around the nightly news weather report 10

An Australian Christmas in New York * Sean Kennedy looking to see if the seven-day forecast would proclaim if Christmas Day was going to hit the forties or not. Centigrade, that is. All the shops glowed an almost otherworldly green and red, and there were so many Santas per cubic meter—foot—that he wondered how kids hadn’t cottoned on to the fact that the magical elf, or whatever he was, could not be in so many places at once. Stop it, he warned himself. You’re not going to become a Scrooge. But it was hard to stop the gradual transformation, especially as everybody else’s ebullient moods only served to bring his own down. Vince soldiered on, however, buying gifts and decorations and fussing over what kind of wrap was best for them. He listened to Chuck’s mother making her plans for the big day and tried to join in. He watched the kids try to build snowmen—as well as they could, seeing the snow in the city immediately turned to slush—pools and oceans the last things on their mind. Chuck would be running around with his nephews and nieces, indulging in snowball fights and snow fort building competitions. He would implore Vince to join in, but Vince would just shiver and stay by the fire. When his care package arrived from his mum, he grossed Chuck out by eating Vegemite straight from the jar with a spoon. Even Vince thought he was pushing it a bit too far, but it seemed that with each mouthful he was a little closer to home. Until the skin started peeling off his tongue and he switched to the Tim Tams instead. Vince knew he was in a funk, and while Chuck tried to be understanding, he was too swamped at work to be able to give him much attention over it. Even at home he was busy, on the phone far too often and working on the laptop. In the end, Vince’s own work started piling up as well, as everybody prepared for the break to come 11

An Australian Christmas in New York * Sean Kennedy over the Christmas period and they wanted to get everything out of the way so their holiday could be enjoyed properly. On Christmas Eve Vince arrived home to find Chuck in a flurry of activity in the kitchen, his ear pressing the phone into the crook of his neck and holding it in place. “You’re home early,” he said accusatorily. “It’s Christmas Eve!” Vince reminded him. “What are you doing?” “What does it look like?” Vince wandered over and pecked him solidly on the cheek. “Like you’re channelling Martha Stewart?” Chuck rolled his eyes. “You could have said Jamie Oliver. That’s more butch.” Vince grinned as he watched Chuck slam the oven door shut with his arse. It was a beautiful sight. “Jamie Oliver? Butch?” Chuck ignored him, saying into the phone, “Yeah, I know, I wrote that down.” “Who are you talking to?” Vince asked, peering over the counter to try and catch a glimpse of whatever it was that Chuck was making. Chuck pushed him away. “I know, Mum. He can be extremely rude.” Mum? That meant Chuck was talking to Vince’s mother, as his habit had grown over the years to address her in the Australian colloquial sense to keep her separated from his own mom and avoid confusion whenever they were talking about one or the other. “You’re talking to my mother?” Vince asked. Chuck shooed him away. “Get out of my kitchen!” 12

An Australian Christmas in New York * Sean Kennedy And that was another thing—since when had it become Chuck’s kitchen? Normally Chuck thought the best use of a kitchen was for it to serve as a takeaway menu holder. Seeing him all domesticated in a traditional blue and white butcher’s apron—where did that even come from?—and wiping the sweat off his brow with an oven mitt… well, Vince didn’t know whether to commit him under suspicion of a mental breakdown or to have his way with him then and there, because he was looking irresistibly sexy in this new role. “Vince!” Chuck was waving the phone at him. “Mum wants to talk to you.” Vince took it off him and made his way to the living room, throwing himself upon the sofa. “Hey, Mum.” “Hello, darling.” It was a relief to hear the healthy strine of an Aussie accent that hadn’t been affected by years on another continent. Vince scratched at his chest absentmindedly and felt his nose tickle a little with a sudden rush of emotion. “What’s up?” “I can’t call my son and my favorite son-in-law?” “I hope you didn’t tell him that. He’ll get a big head.” “And you won’t like the competition, I’m sure.” Vince smiled at his mother’s gentle chiding. “Is everybody good over there?” “You know, same-old, same-old. Your dad’s driving me crazy. He wants to rip out the old bath and put in a shower stall. You know what that means.” “You won’t have a bathroom for over a year. Talk him out of it, 13

An Australian Christmas in New York * Sean Kennedy Mum.” “Believe me, I am!” He could hear the rumbling of his father’s voice in the background. “Your dad says hello,” his mum said. “Put him on,” Vince replied. There was the sound of shuffling in the background, and his dad came on the line. “Hi, Vince.” “Hey, Dad. How are you?” “Good. You?” “Yeah, same-old, same-old. How’s the weather over there?” “It dropped to negative two yesterday. Fahrenheit. Sleet and snow.” “Well, it’s going to be forty-two here on Boxing Day.” Vince whistled. “Good cricket weather.” “You got it. I’ll speak to you tomorrow again, but I’ll put you back on to your mother.” Vince laughed softly to himself. The typical father/son conversation: greetings, weather comparisons, goodbyes, here’s your mum. “Are you okay?” It was his mum again. The question jostled him out of his mirth. “What?” “You don’t sound a hundred percent. I think Chuck’s worried about you.” Vince tilted back in his chair to watch Chuck in the kitchen. He 14

An Australian Christmas in New York * Sean Kennedy was whipping cream by the looks of things. “Did he call you, or did you call here?” His mother deftly avoided the question. “Did you get your package?” “I did, thanks.” “I’m not happy that the presents haven’t turned up yet. I sent both packages at the same time.” “You know what Christmas mail is like, Mum. And you’re avoiding my question.” His mother trilled nervously. “Oh, your sister’s here! I better go, darling. Speak to you tomorrow! But have a good night tonight and be nice to Chuck.” Be nice to Chuck? When wasn’t he? He said his goodbyes and hung up. The level of homesickness was still high, but it was manageable. It did good to hear his parents’ voices, though; it served to alleviate some of it. Returning to the kitchen, Vince caught Chuck looking up from the stove with his spoon frozen in midair. “Are you finally going to tell me what you’re doing?” Vince asked. “Mom just asked me to help out with some of the food for tomorrow,” Chuck replied just a little too quickly. “Your mother has never asked you to help with food, she always has it covered and enough to feed an army besides.” “Well, Caroline’s stove is acting up, so Mom needs some extra hands on this year.” Chuck started drizzling pan juices over the sizzling meat again. 15

An Australian Christmas in New York * Sean Kennedy “Okay.” Vince shrugged. “I’m going to go and wrap the last of the presents. Are you sure you don’t need some help?” Chuck shook his head. “All under control.” At that moment one of the pots on the stove boiled over, and Chuck lunged to lower the heat. “See? All fine!” Vince nodded, his mother’s words ringing in his head: Be nice to Chuck. He was always nice to Chuck. A couple of hours later, when their chores were done, they met back in the living area and ordered in Thai for dinner. Despite having been stuck in the kitchen for the better part of the day, Chuck practically attacked Vince in bed, and Vince fell asleep a much happier man than he had woken that morning.

* * *

HE

WOKE up with an uncomfortably dry mouth and the strange

sensation of being overheated and sticky with sweat. Not the way one usually woke up in New York on a December morning. In fact, he had even kicked the blankets off his naked body and was lying out in the cold air— Oh, shit, I better not be coming down with something… —except that it wasn’t cold air at all. No wonder he had kicked off the blankets; it was bloody sweltering in their bedroom! Had the heat finally started working? He groggily swung his legs over the side of the bed and stretched himself to become more awake. As he yawned he could hear Chuck banging around in the kitchen. When he opened his eyes fully this 16

An Australian Christmas in New York * Sean Kennedy time, he stared down at the footboard of the bed and saw a gigantic heater set at its highest level. Where did that come from? The amount of energy the heater was putting out was staggering. Vince padded over to their bureau and pulled out a pair of clean boxers from one of the drawers. With this much heat, there was no need to wear anything else. The small hallway that separated their bedroom from the rest of their apartment was also amazingly warm. Vince entered a kitchen that was more like a steam room; another heater was set up in the corner, and with the oven on he could feel sweat beginning to bead on his forehead. Chuck was also dressed for the occasion, in boxers with a matching dark blue tank and bare feet. “Merry Christmas,” he said, dropping the tray onto the counter so he could meet Vince with a kiss. Still surprised, Vince could barely return the kiss, and Chuck stepped back with a cheeky glint to his eye. “Barefoot but not pregnant,” he said, indicating himself. “Do you like?” “You look… good,” Vince finally said, and he meant it. It was very un-Chuck-like. He hated his feet, for a start, and usually kept them covered up. It had taken him almost a year to let Vince play with them in any form. “So do you,” Chuck said, leering at the fine chest on display before him. “Is this the way all Aussies dress for Christmas Day?” “Well,” Vince admitted, “I may be a little underdressed. Not for the pool, though.”

17

An Australian Christmas in New York * Sean Kennedy “Thank God for pools, then.” Chuck laughed. He came in close to Vince again and kissed him. There was just something about the heat that made the libido want to come out and play. Vince crushed Chuck against him, and they fell against the table. Supported a little more now, Vince wrapped one leg around Chuck’s lower back to trap him. Their mouths worked furiously against each other, and Vince insistently sought entry with his tongue. His cock was getting delicious friction, caught between his belly and Chuck’s thigh, and he could tell Chuck was in a similar position by the way he bucked himself wildly against him. They fought for breath but didn’t pull away—the heat of the kitchen, the warmth of Chuck’s mouth, and the hellishly delicious panting of Chuck’s need for release all came together in a white hot vacuum that faded away and found Vince on his back against the table, an exhausted Chuck lying against him. Vince began to laugh, and Chuck propped himself up on his partner’s chest. “What?” “Thinking of a bad pun,” Vince wheezed. “Christmas came early this year.” Chuck whacked him affectionately. “Idiot.” “I couldn’t help myself. You looked so hot….” “Well, it is hot in here.” “Where did you get the heaters from?” “Mom,” Chuck replied. “Caroline. And Alice lent me one as well.” “Didn’t they ask what they were for?” “I told them I was trying to give you an Australian Christmas. Of course, they think I’m insane.” 18

An Australian Christmas in New York * Sean Kennedy Vince pulled a sweaty lock of hair out of Chuck’s eyes. “You are. But I love you for it.” “The roast is being reheated. I saved a pack of cheese and onion chips from your relief package. I even found Cascade beer at the import liquor store on Fourth Avenue.” “You’re going to have a beer at nine in the morning?” Vince asked in disbelief. “We have to start early if we’re going to be at my parents’ by two.” Vince pulled him back down. “I love you.” Chuck smiled, looking a little abashed. “And I love you. That’s why I’m looking like a fool. Are you sure this is what I would be wearing if I was at your parents’ house today?” Vince looked around him and found a cracker lying near his head. He offered an end to Chuck, and puzzled, his partner took it. They both pulled, and a loud crack and the smell of fulminate filled the air. A small object tied with a rubber band fell out, and Vince deftly caught it with his left hand. He unfolded the paper crown and pulled it over Chuck’s head. It barely fit and tore slightly at one corner. “There, fat-head. Now you’re fully dressed.” Chuck laughed and kissed him again. “Last night, I called Mum. I got her trifle recipe.” Vince sat up excitedly. “You didn’t!” Chuck nodded. “I did.” “She doesn’t give that to just anybody!” “I guess she loves me too,” Chuck said smugly. 19

An Australian Christmas in New York * Sean Kennedy Be nice to Chuck. Bloody old woman. They showered together quickly, as neither had been expecting the passionate explosion that had taken place at the kitchen table. Chuck, as always, was dried and dressed before Vince, and when Vince made his way back into the kitchen he caught Chuck cleaning the table. Sheepishly, Chuck smiled at him, went to the fridge and got them both beers. It felt strangely decadent to be drinking at twenty past nine in the morning, but it was Christmas. The cheese and onion chips were the perfect appetizer for the roast and veggies that followed. They kept the heaters on and had to wipe the sweat from their faces as they ate. More beer helped them cool down and move on to the plum pudding and custard. “I don’t know how we’re going to eat at your parents’,” Vince said, his belly straining already. “So you don’t want trifle, then?” Vince’s eyes lit up. “Serve it up, baby!” He took a moment to savor it all. The strawberries on top of the sliced jam roll glistened through the ruby-red but still translucent jelly, and the cream and custard layers made it look like a colorful slice of heaven that would taste just like it as well. Chuck looked at him expectantly. Vince made a show of deftly spooning through the dessert. “The trick to eating trifle is not to do it in layers. You have to get a bit of all the layers on your spoon and eat it as one explosion of flavor.” Chuck laughed. “You sound exactly like your mum. That’s what she told me last night.”

20

An Australian Christmas in New York * Sean Kennedy Vince moaned with a heady pleasure as the trifle hit his tongue, and he swallowed it greedily. It brought back years of memories, of sitting around the table with his family. Their heights changed, the table even changed a few times, but somehow the food and the decorations always remained the same in some blessedly traditional and familial way. He had to sniff back a sudden tear as he reached for his second mouthful, and Chuck looked at him in concern. “It’s okay,” Vince told him. “Really.” “Should I not have done this?” “It’s fantastic. Fan-bloody-tastic, even.” He reached across the table for Chuck’s hand. “You’re fan-bloody-tastic too.” Chuck pulled Vince’s hand up and kissed the knuckle. That simple act of affection nearly brought Vince undone again. However, this time it was bittersweet—he was still homesick, but he wasn’t sad about it now. He had started a new existence here with Chuck, and he couldn’t imagine life without him. It was time for new traditions to be formed, ones that could still sit alongside the old ones. “You do know you’re going to have to make trifle every year now,” he joked. “It’s a deal,” Chuck said. “But you have to get the beer. Do you know how many crazy Australians I had to wrestle to get that last six pack?” Vince could imagine. It was only fair that as Chuck had cooked, Vince cleaned up. Chuck went to catch a quick nap between meals and to try to digest enough to make room for their next round at the next house. Vince crawled beside him, setting the alarm to give him half an hour’s sleep as well. 21

An Australian Christmas in New York * Sean Kennedy Chuck shifted against him, and eyes closed, murmured, “Sorry I couldn’t get you a pool to swim in.” Vince kissed his forehead and burrowed into his partner’s warm body; the heaters had long been turned off, and the apartment was returning to its natural frigidness. “Doesn’t matter. But maybe you can help me build a snowman later.” Chuck’s parents lived in Queens, where you actually could build a snowman when the snow fell. “Really?” “Really.” He was heartened by the smile that Chuck gave as he fell asleep again. Old traditions and new traditions… that was what it was all about. Vince drifted off to sleep, visions of trifles and snowmen dancing in his head.

22

Got Mistletoe Madness?

The Dreamspinner Press 2009 Advent Calendar is available at http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com.

S EAN KENNEDY lives in the second-most isolated city in the world, so it’s just as well he has his imagination for company when real-life friends are otherwise occupied. He has far too many ideas and wishes he had the power to feed them directly from his brain into the laptop so they won’t get lost in the ether. Visit Sean's web site at http://www.seankennedybooks.com/.

An Australian Christmas in New York ©Copyright Sean Kennedy, 2009 Published by Dreamspinner Press 4760 Preston Road Suite 244-149 Frisco, TX 75034 http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/ This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the authors’ imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental. Cover Art by Paul Richmond http://www.paulrichmondstudio.com Cover Design by Mara McKennen This book is licensed to the original purchaser only. Duplication or distribution via any means is illegal and a violation of International Copyright Law, subject to criminal prosecution and upon conviction, fines and/or imprisonment. This eBook cannot be legally loaned or given to others. No part of this eBook can be shared or reproduced without the express permission of the publisher. To request permission and all other inquiries, contact Dreamspinner Press at: 4760 Preston Road, Suite 244-149, Frisco, TX 75034 http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/ Released in the United States of America December 2009 eBook Edition eBook ISBN: 978-1-61581-313-1