by Matthew Lang
As the room erupted into cheering, drowning out the rest of the news story, Leon glanced over at his friend. “I’m sorry…. I—”
But Rook was grinning, his wide smile more than slightly vindictive and very relieved. “I’m not,” he said. “I could kiss whoever got hold of that footage.”
“Present and available,” Krissy said, sauntering up to the table, and Leon noticed in passing the streaks in her hair now matched her dress.
“And how did you get your hands on it exactly?” Leon asked.
“It’s not my fault the evidence was on a laptop with no encryption and an open Wi-Fi connection.”
“I thought those hearings were closed?”
“Wi-Fi, Leon,” Krissy said. “It goes through walls.”
“And who exactly might you be?” Rook asked.
“Kristina,” Krissy said. “Nice to finally meet you.”
“You as well! Leon’s told me a lot about you.”
“Well, he hasn’t told me nearly enough about you.”
“Leon, are you hiding all your good-looking female friends from me?” Rook asked, although his gaze never left Krissy’s.
“No, just the straight ones,” Leon said. “Honestly, she’s been working,” he added hurriedly as Krissy looked as though she would aim a kick at him.
In the meantime, Seth had banged on the lectern for silence. “Well, I think that tops any speech I was going to make,” he said with a grin. “Merry Christmas, ladies and gentlemen.”
“Merry Christmas!” the crowd thundered back.
“Okay, that’s enough from me. Let’s eat!”
Space was made to squeeze Krissy in at the head table, and the four friends partied well into the night, following the crowd to The Gateway Hotel when campus security came by to close the building.
THE following morning, Leon rolled out of bed and went in search of clean underwear, leaving Warrick to sleep in. Rubbing sleep from his eyes as he stepped into the kitchen, he was greeted by a familiar figure perched on a chair, cast sticking out and crutch off to one side.
“Hello,” Leon said. “I see you and Krissy got to know each other a bit better.”
Rook blushed. “Not that well. We were both drunk and, well…. Hey, looks like the footage made news just about everywhere,” he said, holding up his phone. “I’m betting the Herald wishes it published a Sunday paper now.”
“Well, that’s a start at least,” Leon said, as he headed for the fridge. “Want some juice?”
Rook raised a mug. “Nah, I found the coffee. I’m good.”
“I can’t believe you’re not hung over,” Leon said.
“I don’t get hung over,” Rook said severely. “Just occasionally depressed—in a nonclinical fashion.”
“Good for you,” Leon said, pouring himself a glass of orange juice. “Warrick is decidedly under the weather.”
“I think he just had a lot to celebrate,” Rook said, raising his mug toward Leon.
“So do I, come to think of it,” Leon said. “Oh, we had something else for you.”
“More?” Rook asked. “How can there be more? Don’t tell me, you worked out how to achieve world peace?”
“Kill all the humans,” Leon said promptly. “But I’m not advocating that.”
Rook chuckled. “Okay, what is it?”
Leon walked into the lounge and returned with a Nexus tablet. “This,” he said.
“I think I have an iPad at home, you know.”
Unlocking the screen, Leon started a video and sat back. “No, not the tablet. This is you,” he said. “Given your amnesia, we thought, well, Warrick and I….”
Rook’s eyes were already glued to the small screen, which was showing a small boy riding a bright blue-and-yellow tricycle around a small courtyard. “Where did you get this?”
“Your mum gave us that one,” Leon said. “And that,” he added as the video faded to an old family photo of Rook’s parents, a small child that Leon knew at once to be his friend, and a small, newborn infant. “We also got a fair amount from Facebook. You need to check your privacy settings, dude.”
“Who’s that?” Rook asked as another photo came up on screen, this one of a gap-toothed boy with bowl-cut brown hair. “Wait—isn’t that you, Leon?”
“Not me. That’s your brother, Kent.”
“Kent?”
But now another video was showing two boys on the beach playing cricket in the sand, the older boy obviously Rook, probably age fifteen or so, the smaller, wiry boy smiling happily as he chased after a battered tennis ball. “Wow, he’s emo,” Rook said. “An emo who smiles. I like that.”
“Good at eyeliner, though,” Leon said. “And that’s him with carrot sticks at Taronga Zoo, I think.”
“You mean dropping the carrot sticks and running away from the kangaroo,” Rook said.
“Same thing.”
Then a photo of a photo, of an almost smiling Kent in a school uniform, his hair brushed out of his eyes and the sun glinting off a goldish frame as it sat before a carved stone next to a bouquet of red roses. Rook’s gasp was audible.
“He died when he was fourteen,” Rook said.
“Yeah,” Leon said quietly. “I’m so—”
“He… couldn’t cope,” Rook went on, his eyes welling with tears. “He—you remind me of him so much. I look at you, and I see what he could have been if he hadn’t… if people hadn’t….” He reached out and traced the curve of his brother’s cheek on the screen, which also caused the video to pause. “I remember.”
“Did you want to see the rest?”
Rook nodded and tapped the screen again. The rest of the images showed parties and shots of campus, girls, and face paint at rugby games. Happier, more recent times, Leon thought. No, not happier. Just more recent.
“Thank you,” Rook said as the video faded to black.
“You’re welcome,” Leon said. “It wasn’t all me, though.”
Rook nodded. “I’ll remember to thank Warrick when I see him.”
“I should go wake him,” Leon said pensively. “I’m hungry, and my stomach wants pancakes.”
“I’m sure you can make your own pancakes, Leon,” Rook said with an indulgent smile.
“Not as good as Warrick’s. Plus he gets annoyed if I mess up his kitchen.”
“But it’s your kitchen.”
“Not when Warrick’s here, it’s not.”
A melancholy smile passed over Rook’s features. “I wish Kent could have met you.”
“I wish I could have met him too. He seemed like a great guy.”
“When you were younger, did you ever feel like…? I mean, did you ever consider…?”
Leon shook his head. “Not really. I don’t talk to my parents anymore, but that’s my choice. I always thought things would get better. And then I met Krissy, and well….”
“Yeah, she’s pretty amazing.”
“And it was nice to know I could be gay and still have straight friends.”
“What about straight male friends?”
“Hey, you’re the one sitting in my kitchen in his boxers and leg cast,” Leon said.
“So in your professional opinion,” Rook asked, his voice taking on an officious tone, “it is possible for a gay man to have straight friends he’s not lusting after?”
“Not if they’re hot,” Leon said lightly. “But if anyone questions me, I’ll just tell them you kissed me first.”
They both laughed at that, a free, easy laugh that filled the room. “To friends,” Rook said, raising his coffee mug. “Wherever they fall on the Kinsey scale.”
Leon raised his glass. “I’ll drink to that.”
About the Author
MATTHEW LANG writes behind a desk, in the park, on the tram, and sometimes backstage at amateur theater productions. He has been known to sing and dance in public and analyze the plots of movies and TV shows, and is a confessed Masterchef addict. He has dabbled in film, machinema, event management, and even insurance, but
his first love has always been the written word. He is suspected of frequenting libraries and hanging around in bookstores, and his therapists believe he may be plotting some form of literature.
Matthew can be reached on Twitter: @mattlangwrites and on Facebook at http://www.facebook.com/MattLangWrites.
Aussie Romance from DREAMSPINNER PRESS
http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com
Copyright
The Way You Are ©Copyright Matthew Lang, 2013
Published by
Dreamspinner Press
5032 Capital Circle SW
Ste 2, PMB# 279
Tallahassee, FL 32305-7886 USA
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 Christine Griffin
[email protected]
http://christinegriffin.artworkfolio.com/
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: 5032 Capital Circle SW Ste 2, PMB# 279 Tallahassee, FL 32305-7886
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Released in the United States of America
January 2013
eBook Edition
eBook ISBN: 978-1-62380-272-1
{1} Slang for “derelict.” The original word might have been wittier, but “derelict” has far too many syllables to make a good insult, and besides, Aussies are lazy. If they weren’t, they’d call themselves Australians and throw a shrimp on the barbecue rather than on the “barbie.”
{2} The term “Bogan” refers to someone considered less cultured, less intelligent, and typically more rural than the person using the insult. It’s what the British would call Australians if they ever tired of the word “convict.” For Americans, the best translation would be “trailer trash” or anyone from Jersey Shore. It should be noted that there is a town in New South Wales called Bogan, but the population is silent as to whether any Bogans actually live there.
{3} Short for Utility Vehicle. Known as a “pickup truck” or simply “pickup” in America, Aussies decided to use their own slang because no one wanted to make the effort of pronouncing the extra syllable.
{4} Interestingly this phrase was never used to refer to the locals who went to the University. Whether that says more about the locals or the students using the phrase is a question best left to individual judgement.
{5} Put two random rabbits into a box. The theory goes that until you open the box, the number of rabbits inside the box is both two and greater than two at the same time. Students who pointed out that the actual state should also include less than two depending on how large the box was, whether there were air holes, whether food and water were also included, and the length of time the box was left for, were promptly ridiculed as “overly intellectual” and lynched by PETA for clearly putting too much thought into the analogy.
{6} The notion that the indigenous Australian people, who had lived in harmony with the harsh environment of Australia for untold centuries, somehow counted as “human” didn’t really become fashionable until 1967.
{7} Another example of Australian slang. Politely this translates to “back of beyond” and less politely to “bum-fuck nowhere,” but probably with less bum and more sheep. At least, according to the Kiwis across the pond, but they’re just deflecting, really.
{8} Vanessa Strangetooth, 20, student of cosmetic dentistry who possessed a perfect smile, obviously.
{9} A Giffen good is a rare product that people buy more of as its price increases, the traditional example being potatoes during the Irish potato famine. Of course, a more modern example would be Apple’s latest iPhone or One Direction concert tickets.
{10} Except for that one time, which does not get talked about.
{11} Leon’s room also contained three glasses, two mugs—one of them half-full of cold tea—four pairs of clean underwear, eight pairs of used underwear, including one extra-large that did not belong to him, ten gigabytes of porn, and one family photo hidden in a frame beneath a beach picnic snap of him and Krissy. Additionally, there was also a huntsman spider in the corner, but Leon didn’t notice it for another four days.
{12} Shaping, or “throttling,” is an Australian invention designed to prevent customers being outraged after going over their internet usage limits and being charged per megabyte downloaded over their contracted amount. Essentially your fancy broadband connection gets slowed down to dial-up speeds, and you are gently reminded to pay more money for a better plan, or that you really shouldn’t be watching so much internet porn. Or both.
{13} Reports suggest that the average chocolate bar contains about six insect fragments, typically legs. Some contain up to thirty, depending on brand. Chocolate syrup tends to have fewer insect particles, but Leon was unfortunate enough to get three in his one serving of iced chocolate. And a fourth from the commercial ice cream.
{14} Leaving one cockroach fragment to be flushed down the sink by an industrial dishwasher.
{15} When Leon had first seen this word written down, he’d pronounced it “whores devours.” After sending him to the principal’s office, his English teacher, an old lady in her seventies, had needed to go and have a bit of a lie down.
{16} To be fair, this can equally apply to gay boys as straight boys, even if the gay boys would like to have you think that particular stereotype does not apply to them.
{17} A non-classy way of very classily not mentioning that you’re buying alcohol—just bottles which may or may not contain alcohol. Short for “Bottle Shop,” the term came about from the Australian tendency to think everything reads better with an “o” on the end. Thus “Wayne-O,” “Jonno,” “Steve-O,” the drink Milo, and the insult “drongo,” just to name a few. Linguists are still wondering why “Vegemite-o” never took off, or possibly “Veg-o,” but learned very quickly not to come between an Aussie and his or her Vegemite.
{18} Unlike other bars, the Bar on the Hill is very aptly named, being situated on an actual hill. In contrast, the Owl and the Pussycat does not have an owl or a pussycat on premises, let alone both. Priscilla’s similarly is not owned by, nor features, a Priscilla on staff—or in drag. And the less said about King Armadillo, the better.