Kiss and Cry. Narrelle M Harris

you Antony-Mantony!’ Frank shouted back, grateful for the interruption. He crouched and spread his arms wide to catch the human torpedo that flung himself into his arms. Frank lifted him up again and swung him around. Antony squealed joyfully.

      ‘Careful Antony!’ Tonia cautioned. ‘Don’t hurt your Uncle Frank!’

      ‘Mum, I’m 38 not 150.’

      ‘Your father’s back went when he was 40.’

      Frank didn’t want to admit that whirling a four year old in a circle was in any way putting a strain on his lower back, but he deposited his nephew on the floor again and set him running off towards Isabella again. Milo, fond and sympathetic, tucked himself by Frank’s side and slung an arm around Frank’s waist.

      ‘I promise not to tell them how flexible you still are,’ he murmured into Frank’s ear. Frank slipped a hand down to pinch Milo’s bottom. Milo wriggled and kissed Frank’s ear.

      Before Frank could get too distracted, he caught Olivia laughing at them. She quickly covered that up by joining in a conversation with another guest, Gabriella Valli, while her husband Pete talked football with Frank and Milo’s sometimes-drummer, Minh Do.

      ‘Wait till you’re 40, sunshine!’ called out Frank’s mate Rob. ‘Not long now!’

      ‘Fuck you too!’ Frank yelled cheerfully back, then winced as Angela shot him a look.

      Isabella came to the not-quite-rescue. ‘It’s okay Mum, I know the word “fuck”.’

      ‘Isabella Julia Kingsley!’

      Isabella Julia Kingsley flushed red and hid behind Tonia, who tutted often but never shouted.

      Antony began to sing that ‘Bella said a ruuuuuuuudie!’ and Isabella to protest that it was no big deal, everyone said it, not just Uncle Frank. ‘You and dad said it all the time before you split up.’

      Angela stared at her daughter. ‘Fuck it,’ she said, and downed the rest of her chardonnay in a swallow.

      ‘That’s the spirit, Ange,’ Milo cheered, slipping away from Frank and grabbing a bottle of wine to top up her glass.

      Frank genuinely couldn’t work out if this was the best or the worst birthday party he’d ever had. The little family-and-close-friends do was low-key, exactly what he wanted, but still somehow fraught. On the one hand, all of his family were there. On the other hand, all of his family were there. If tonight didn’t kill him, he’d make sure they had two separate parties in future. If he bothered to have any more. Fuck thirty-eight. Maybe it was time to just have cosy nights in with Milo watching costume dramas and sharing a tiramisu.

      ‘You and Frank are the lucky ones,’ Angela was now saying to Milo. ‘I mean, you should be able to get gay married, but at least you don’t have to get gay divorced.’

      ‘Yeah,’ deadpanned Milo. ‘It’s a super terrific bonus to not having equal rights.’

      Angela, who was holding out her empty glass for refill, missed the snark.

      ‘Happy birthday, big brother,’ she tossed over her shoulder to Frank. ‘Being gay means never having to explain to your kids that daddy is a cheating bastard liar.’

      ‘Aaaand maybe that’s enough wine for now.’ Milo steered Angela towards Tonia and pirouetted away to perform some other good-host deed, making up for lost time. Frank wished Milo would come back and kiss him again.

      Five minutes later, Milo slipped in behind Frank and hugged him, kissed his neck. ‘Wanna smooch some more and corrupt the kiddies?’

      Frank laughed, turned in Milo’s arms and they kissed, though chastely.

      ‘I’m getting some canapes, I’m starving,’ said Milo, and slipped away again. Frank watched him, feeling that nothing could be too bad, if Milo was around being a charming sod and cheeking the relatives.

      Maybe he could go home and cuddle with Milo soon. As soon as they could get everyone else to go away.

      ‘Step-son!’ Pete waved Milo over.

      ‘Step-dad!’ Milo wrapped an arm around Pete’s shoulder and gave him a smacking kiss on the side of the head.

      ‘Minh says they’ve announced a new Hobart Kites footballer to go on that skating show with you.’

      Milo nodded. ‘The producers said. Adam Wills. Same team, same charity, all good.’

      While they talked football, Frank accepted a hug from Gabriella Valli. ‘Happy birthday, Frank. I don’t think you’re old.’

      ‘Cheeky wench.’

      Gabey only laughed. ‘I’m not one to talk: I’m heading off early. I have a little boy to kiss goodnight.’

      ‘Give Bruno a kiss from me!’

      ‘And me!’ sang out Milo, manifesting beside Frank and offering his face to receive a kiss on each cheek.

      ‘You,’ Gabey said, obliging him, ‘keep out of trouble. You too,’ she said as she kissed Frank.

      Gabriella leaving was a signal for the exodus in groups of twos and threes. Cody’s hug lingered a little long for good taste but before Frank had to actively make him let go, Cody kissed him on the cheek and withdrew. ‘Happy birthday, mate,’ he said. ‘See you at the studio next week. I’m open to any more brilliant ideas you have.’

      ‘Course you are,’ said Milo, slotting in beside Frank again. His expression was friendly and innocent of double meaning. ‘He’s a brilliant producer and you should listen to all his bright ideas.’

      ‘Never mind him,’ said Frank, attempting humility. ‘Milo’s my cheer squad.’

      ‘Not wrong though,’ asserted Milo.

      ‘Not wrong at all,’ Cody agreed. ‘Next week, then!’

      Frank went off to hug a few more people farewell while Milo watched Cody definitely leave. Then Milo leapt in to organising taxis for the stragglers before returning to where Frank was idly picking at the birthday cake’s mousse filling.

      ‘Hey, stranger.’

      ‘Hey yourself.’

      ‘You look sexy, old man.’ The tip of Milo’s tongue darted out to provide a delicately suggestive lick of his lips. ‘Let’s blow this joint and come to my place for a tumble.’

      Frank’s eyebrow arched at “old man”. ‘I’m only six months older than you.’

      ‘Oooh, deliciously ripe then. Yum.’

      Frank laughed. ‘You’re a menace to society, Milo Bertolone.’

      ‘I’m a menace to your society. Come home and let me ravish you.’ Milo enfolded Frank in his arms and kissed his neck. ‘Unless you’re too full of cake.’

      ‘I am, but as it’s my birthday, you can do all the work.’

      ‘Who’s a cheeky wench now, hmm?’

      ‘Me. I’m the birthday wench. Don’t you forget i-‘ The sentence was lost in a demanding kiss that Frank happily surrendered to.

      They bundled gifts and cards into a box and walked home across Argyle Square between the elm trees. The cool blue piazza lighting glowed at the north end of the park; at this end, among the deep night shadows, the air tasted of high summer heat, parched leaves and bark.

      By the time they were through the front door, ardour had cooled. Ardour had a way of doing that lately. Milo, however, dumped the box in the hall and pulled Frank into a nuzzling kiss.

      Frank wasn’t sure he could recapture the mood now. Too full, too tired. But then Milo bumped noses with him and said softly, ‘I’ve missed you, babe. All this running around, working all the time. I miss this. Just being with you.’

      Frank