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Christmas

Ken wasn't entirely sure what drew him to her, really. He had met Annabeth about a year ago at a party. It had been her sister, Laura's, birthday and her husband Alex, was Ken's best friend. So, he had been invited. It hadn't been the first time that Ken had met Anna. And, he still couldn't figure it out.

The night they met, Ken had been outside, having a smoke. Putting the cigarette in his mouth, he took a long draw off of it, and blew the smoke out slowly. He watched it wreath around in the cold December air, drifting gently off before it dissapated into nothing.

He loved December. Mostly he loved Christmas. Ken's parents had never been terribly well off, and that, Ken decided, was the reason he enjoyed Christmas. Ken's father had been a family man, and his mother a homemaker. His dad had worked for a firm called Gesterson-Babage. A law-firm in the city. But he had never made partner. Until 3 years ago, when a case his dad was handling got national media coverage.

His father had performed admirably in his defence of the client, who had turned out to be innocent though most of the evidence told otherwise. And from there, he had been made senior partner. But...money, Ken thought, still held little meaning for his family. They still lived in their small bungalow. They still ate at McDonalds, and not the fancy Itallian place down the road, and they still drove an old beat up buick.

That was why Ken loved christmas. His family was immaterial. They didn't care about the trappings, the presents or the gifts. It was in the love and the laughter that they found Christmas. And so it was, that Ken was outside, on Laura's deck smoking a cigarette and drinking a whiskey, watching as his smoke mingled with the clear, night sky and the glow of Laura and Alex's Christmas lights.

Taking a sip from his glass of whiskey, and leaned over the railing, and smiled. The screen door opened behind him, and he heard the crunch of boots on snow. He turned around and found Annabeth standing there, her arms bundled up over her chest. She was wearing black polyester pants and red cardigan with snow flakes on it, that hugged her body.

Ken rolled his eyes. "You're gonna catch cold, you know." He took off his leather bomber, and tossed it over her shoulders.

She pulled it tight, and looked at him. "And you're going to die at the age of 30 if you keep smoking like that."

Ken cocked an eyebrow. She'd never been agressive before. Actually, quite the opposite, Anna was quiet and unassuming. Taking another drag Ken stopped half way through as she scowled. He nodded and flicked the cigarette out into one of the snow drifts where it slowly sizzled out. "Better?"

"Much," she said with a smile. "So, what are you doing out here anyways? Everyone else is inside."

Ken's brow furrowed. "That's sort of it. I was feeling claustrophobic. Too many people squished in. I love company, don't get me wrong," he added seeing her face of discontent. "Especially at Christmas." He smiled and tooked another sip of his whiskey.

"What's that taste like?" she asked.

Ken looked at her. And sighed, swishing the warm, viscous fluid around in his mouth. And swolled. "Scotch Whiskey?" He sighed again. "Well, this is the good stuff. It's Jonnie Walker Black. My brother and I have always buy a bottle at Christmas. We share it with our dad."

She grinned. "That's great. But you didn't answer my question."

"No, I suppose not." He took another sip. "Well, it's good. To say the least. Black Label is 12 year old Scotch. It's been aged in oak casks for that long, is what it means. This lets it develop it's taste and potency. It's 80 proof. Essentially, it's got a nice smokey flavor, a good mellow, roundness to it. It burns going down, and warms you up from the inside."

She held out her hand and Ken passed her the glass. She sniffed it gingerly and wrinkled her freckled nose. "Wow, that smells...unique."

Ken laughed, hard. "Yeah," he said, when he could finally breathe again. "Well, it's 80 proof alchohol."

She shrugged and took a sip, and then spluttered, spilling the whiskey into the snow. She couged and and hacked. Ken reached down and picked up a bit of snow, and she stuck it in her mouth. "HOT!"

He snickered. "Yeah. I told you it was." He took the glass back and took the last gulp down. Placing it on the banister as Annabeth continued to cough.

Laua poked her head out of the door. "Everything ok out here?" she asked, with a bit of a grin on her face.

Ken chuckled. "Yeah. That was Anna's first attempt at drinking 12 year old whiskey straight." He looked back at the girl, her face still read, and coughing a little. "It...ahh...it didn't go well." Laura rolled her eyes and went back inside.

"So, about your other comment?" She asked, once she had recovered.

"What do you mean?" Ken asked as he watched the sky. The coulds were drifting across the moon and the smoke from the chimney was making patterns in the sky.

"Why d'you like company? Especially at christmas?" She watched him, as he stood there, looking at his gloved hands on the banister. Anna pulled the coat tighter over her shoulders and stood, stock still. Till, at last, Ken spoke:

"It's the familiarity. The warmth that they provide."

"Meaning?"

"Well, my family, until recently, didn't have a whole lot of money, so we found happiness in Christmas through other means. Like family, friends, gatherings. Yeah, they cost a bit of money for food and what not, but my mom and dad are fairly good cooks. So raw ingredients right? Either way, thats...that's why. I feel nothing but pity for someone who goes through life without feeling that warmth and only has material goods to go on with at christmas. Not my idea of a good time."

Anna slipped in beside Ken and grabbed his hand. "I feel the same way."

To Be Continued.