Free An Australian Christmas in New York by Sean Kennedy Page A

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 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 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.”
    “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