Nine Minutes in Heaven

by David Connor

  “Not so long ago,” Patrick said. “It was a dark and stormy night.”

  “Two dark and stormy nights, first thunder, and then snow.” I took his hands in mine and touched the strip of olive-green vinyl around his fourth finger.

  “And we weathered it all.”

  “Patrick is punny.”

  That made his smile bigger. He’d never stopped, not since he’d seen me, but now it shone brighter. “And not one for convention,” he said. “I love my engagement ring, and who says the honeymoon can’t come before the wedding?”

  “I promised Jefferson and Calvin a spring ceremony. It’s spring, now, at least according to the calendar. I like the thought of May.”

  “Just a couple weeks away.”

  “A couple weeks…” I wasn’t sure why thinking ahead gave me pause. “Today sounds even better, don’t you think?”

  “I do.”

  “You may now kiss the groom,” I said, and he did. “What kind of storm is left for us to face? Maybe we can hope for a volcanic eruption or an earthquake when we say those words for real, for tradition’s sake…continuity. No, not an earthquake.”

  “Would that scare you too much?”

  “No. Nothing scares me anymore,” I said, looking out at frothy wisps of white through all the pink. “Grown men shouldn’t have fears.”

  “That’s bullshit,” Patrick proclaimed. “Everyone is afraid of something, often for good reason. I remember being afraid.”

  “Of?”

  “Of losing people I love, of not being able to save them. Not being able to save you.”

  “When?”

  “Anytime you needed saving. When you fell off that ladder, that was pretty damned scary.”

  “I was fine then. I’m safe now. I’m here.”

  “Yes. Then there’s my fear of kitty cats.”

  “All gone, since The Rainbow Bridge?”

  “We sometimes confuse fear with other things, right? My allergies, in this case. I have one of those grandmothers who said things like, ‘You’ll sneeze yourself to death.’ I took her literally. She might have believed it herself on some level. An irrational fear. Never happened.”

  “No.”

  “Then, there’s the antelopes thing.”

  The memory of Patrick thinking an antelope might have stumbled into Cost-Mart during a blizzard brought a laugh. “Well, that one’s pretty rational.”

  “Rather common, I would think.”

  “Oh, sure.” I kissed him, because his face showed every emotion connected to the fond remembrance of that snowy night. He narrowed his eyes to see it better in the distance, as if such was possible. The humor behind his confession came with a glint, and the raise of one brow, and how much he loved me, that was always evident, when he found my gaze and captured it, as if staring right into my soul. Patrick’s words and actions left me with nothing to fear there, and the way he licked his lips told me something as well. He wanted to do more than kiss. “Well, I don’t feel anything close to anxiety now,” I said, running my hands down the prickliness of newly sprouting orange fur that covered his body. “Nothing but calm and peace. As for our wedding day, maybe we can hope for some minor flooding. They say rain on a wedding day is good luck.”

  “You do look sexy wet.” Patrick gently moved me back. He lifted my shirt all the way to my chin, then licked my entire torso, starting at the waistband of my black jeans, where my hair was as plentiful as his once was. With one quick lap, he lingered a bit in sparser hair, there where the golden P from a chain nestled in it. “Even just a little wet, mmm, so sexy.”

  “Wherever it happens, I can’t wait to be Mr. Patrick O’Hanlon.”

  “Patrick O’Hanlon-Tucker and Goose Tucker-O’Hanlon. How does that sound?”

  “Perfect.”

  “All your doubts are gone?”

  “My doubts were dumb, and they seem a lifetime ago. None here now, that’s for sure.”

  “Good. For me, eternity in your arms seems heavenly,” Patrick declared. Dancing me toward the railing, he sang the theme from Titanic, another throwback to being snowed in back in January.

  I shushed him with my mouth touching his. “We’re on a boat. That song might be bad juju.”

  When he switched over to the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles cartoon opening, sang at the same tempo, with the same Celine drama and bravado, I laughed, and not because of his off-key, mangled warbling, for a change.

  “That’s better.”

  “So, I’ve succeeded in wooing you with my musical prowess?” Patrick played in my hair, trying to tame its lack of style.

  “You wooed me with historical facts about the Civil War the moment I laid eyes on you. You were and continue to be the sexiest six and a half feet tall leprechaun I have ever seen.”

  “You know the moment I first fell for you?”

  I listened to a cardinal trill before I answered. “When?”

  “The way you frowned so adorably when you found out the term cracker line was pretty literal, I fell for you then.” Patrick tweaked the end of my nose.

  “They weren’t even Ritz Crackers…not even graham. Not a Cheez-It or potato chip to be had. Poor Jefferson.”

  “Aww. I’ll swim across this huge lake to get you all of those things right now, if you want. Are you hungry?”

  “Swim? Have you forgotten how to steer this thing? I thought you were captaining our mighty vessel.”

  “Well, it’s kind of new. It might be a good thing we’re docked.”

  “Ah. I’m okay. Thank you. And having been in Jefferson’s shoes, knowing some of what those young boys and men actually went through, my complaints seem awfully petty in retrospect.” I listened for the cardinal again, to see if I recognized his tune. “Do I hear ‘Amazing Grace’ for real, or just because I want to?”

  “I hear it.”

  “Did Calvin lead you here? Did he bring you to The Rainbow Bridge?”

  “Yes.”

  “I saw Jefferson almost immediately,” I said. “And then again just now, but not Calvin. Has he been with you?”

  “Yes.”

  “The whole time?” I asked, peering over the edge of the boat, looking for Patrick’s reflection in the water, as he did the same.

  “Ever since the light.”

  With all the life within it, the gentle blue was not quite still enough to allow a reflection to form. “Good. I’m glad you weren’t alone at the pharmacy with just…I was afraid when Tom was with me, afraid of what he’d done to you.”

  “I was afraid for you, too, of what he said he was going to do next.”

  “I don’t even want him punished. What would the point of that be? Maybe, I’m dumb, but I would rather he find peace, too. I would rather whatever was wrong with him be fixed here…or wherever he’s gone to.”

  Patrick turned me to see his face for real. “Because you’re good. All good, that’s why. You love.”

  “I’m sorry I brought him into your life.”

  “I’m lucky you’re a part of my life at all, no matter what else happened.”

  “Still, it’s my fault. There’s a part of me that wishes I was dressed as Batman again.” I half expected it to happen, as if my words now had magical powers. Poof!

  Nope.

  “Batman? We could probably find a costume here, if you want it for real, one you won’t trip over.”

  “No more knocks on the head,” I said.

  “No.” He kissed me where that bump and bruise had been and healed months and months ago. The others, from the accident, were gone here as well.

  “I just like the thought of being a superhero, somehow. Superheroes save lives.”

  “You’re my superhero. You even have a letter on your chest.” He touched the P that stood for his name.

  “So do you.”

  There was magic in Heaven, in some ways.

  Patrick put them together, crouching to my level to bring his G to the P I wore. “Tom’s actions, his violence, his crimes are no
t your fault.” He folded me into his arms. “If holding you now does nothing else, if it’s all we get, I won’t release you until you let go of that, until I make you see I don’t believe it for a moment, and neither should you.”

  “Jefferson said the bad thoughts go away here. If anyone can make that happen, it’s you.”

  “I never want you to have bad thoughts.” Patrick kissed my forehead.

  “They’re fewer and fewer each moment we’re together.”

  “Then stay with me forever.”

  I heard the trill of a cardinal once more.

  “Or make the most of what time there is,” I said. “There’s something about three minutes. Three minutes counted on the other side. I don’t know how many times we get to have them. We’ll be up to six, if…I have a feeling Jefferson will be back soon.”

  “Yes,” Patrick said a third time. “If time matters, and I have the same feeling it does, superhero costume or no, you’re wearing too many clothes.”

  With my cheek against his chest, I said, “I only have on one more article than you.”

  “Not anymore.” He’d removed his black dress pants in one swift motion, and now stood beside me naked and half hard. “They seemed rather out of place here, anyway.” The pants went flying with a flick from each leg.

  “Especially without the shirt and tie.”

  “Long gone,” Patrick said. “I wanted to be ready for you.”

  “Well, it seems I had better catch up. I want us to be together, just in case.”

  “Or just because,” Patrick said. “Let me help you.” He slipped my shirt back over my shoulders, then got to his knees to unfasten the button of my jeans, now at eye level. “Have you ever love fucked on a boat?”

  “‘Love fuck?’ We’re really going with that?”

  “I like the sound of it.” Patrick locked in on my eyes. His finger, now still, resting just below my belly button, gave me a tingle a little lower down.

  “I like it, too.” The jeans unfastened, I shivered at the sound of the zipper and the feel of Patrick’s knuckles sliding down the length of my cock along with it. “To answer your question, I’ve never even been on a boat before,” I said. “Unless I count a Civil War pontoon. This is better.”

  “And kind of a twofer.”

  “Seems like.”

  Patrick’s smirk disappeared when he took his lip between his teeth, mimicking the way I did the same thing. He eased my jeans down over my hips, and then put his mouth to the red concentric circles at my thick, tender cock. “The underwear I gave you for Valentine’s Day.”

  “Bullseye!”

  He kissed his way up my body. “You always keep your promises to me.” That was his last comment concerning underwear. The pattern on mine hardly mattered once Patrick took them off me. His mouth at my ankles, where they rested a moment, he made a big deal out of pulling at them with his teeth and growling like one of my dogs. He shook his head playfully, just as Wilbur or the others with whom I’d recently been reunited might. I pictured TJ and Max resting contentedly under a tree in my grandparent’s yard. The cats, I assumed, were doing cat things, which might include playing with bugs outdoors without the worry of fleas or sitting on a sunny windowsill somewhere. Were the pictures in my mind accurate or something I just made up? I had no idea.

  “I hope even fleas get a Heaven, just not at the expense of furry critters. Maybe, they have tiny buffet restaurants to dine at, so they no longer have to be parasites.”

  Patrick smiled up at me. “Your heart is so big.”

  “Every creature great and small deserves to be as content as I feel right now.”

  “Pure love.”

  Patrick’s mouth seemed more desperate as it came against mine once he stood at full height. Well, not quite. He had to slouch quite a bit to kiss me. He always would. I felt the desperation as well, taking in his exhales, counting the beats of his heart with one hand where they came from, the other at his pelvic bone, where his flesh felt hottest. “Hurry.”

  “Hurry?” He grew in my grip, when I moved my hand to curl it around his shaft.

  “I need you.”

  I stroked him until hard, and then turned my back, putting his cock to my ass. On tiptoe, I felt its head between the crack there. Bending slightly, I found it with my hole, then writhed to tease myself and to prepare to take it inside.

  Patrick ran his fingers down my back. I felt his hot breath at the small of it afterward, and then his warm, wet mouth between my legs in back, higher and higher and higher, until he spit at the place I’d been teasing. Working me open with his fingers, taking turns with them and his tongue, the rush of it all seemed to slow some, until I returned to it.

  “Fuck me.” I jerked away and spun around. On my knees, I made Patrick’s cock wet enough to enter me. Standing again, I turned back to bend over the rail, splaying my legs, to invite him to do so.

  “No. You have to face me.” He brought me back. “Down there.” From a bench with a hinged lid, he pulled a blanket and spread it out on the shiny wood floor. “Love fucking means I have to see your face.”

  I touched his, straightened his glasses, brushed his beard, and then let him guide me backwards, and eventually down to lie flat.

  “This is good.” He was on top of me now. “The more of me that can touch you, the better.” We kissed. “You’re okay?” he asked.

  “Yes. The more of you that can touch me the better. Relax.”

  He’d been holding himself up, the muscles in his arms shaking some. He settled then, all the way, so I could feel most of his weight. “Still good?”

  “Still good.”

  Patrick was gentle at first. I hoped my moaning would be perceived as permission to be a little less so. Soon, I was grunting, and Patrick as well, as he thrust and slammed against me and swiftly jerked me off. His palm was wet with spit and quite a bit of pre-cum. The more that oozed from my slit, the more slippery my cock became, just like Patrick’s hand, the one he kept licking, either for lubrication or to savor the taste of me.

  There was no doubt when I came that he wanted to devour it. “So fucking good!” After lapping some more from my red, swollen head, causing me to writhe into the soft blue blanket, he asked, “Did I say that out loud?”

  Laughing during sex made it all the more enjoyable to me. “You did.” I never wanted to be mopey and serious again.

  My smile became a grimace, but not for unpleasant reasons. Still, Patrick posed another question. “Everything still okay?” Because of my past, he wanted to make sure.

  “Everything is perfect.”

  He came up inside me, and I put my mouth to his neck as his body fell against mine again, this time, pinning me down. The positioning would have panicked me not so long ago. Currently, there was no fear or rush to move him. None at all. “God, I love you.”

  “I love you, too, Goose.”

  We shared a kiss, then Patrick rolled away, too far away.

  “Come back here.”

  I moved, too. Hip to hip, our heavy breathing synched, as we stared up at the sky. The moon was now visible, not illuminated, but rather like a carving floating above us. I had a moment to realize it was different than the night I’d left behind. Earlier, another day, I wasn’t sure, but different. Why was I suddenly aware again?

  “They say the face you see as the man in the moon is that of your soul mate,” Patrick said.

  “They say that?”

  “Someone said it. Maybe my mother or someone else I know.”

  I stared. “Well, I’ll be. There you are.”

  “You think?” Patrick turned me to face him. “More you, I’m sure. Those eyes…” He touched his lips to mine. “The brows and the nose…” He kissed me there. “The mouth.” Ours came together. “And the beard.”

  “Hold up. The moon has a beard?”

  “I see it. Don’t you?”

  I looked. “Well, of course. It was there all along, because I see you.”

  “Remember I’
m there.”

  “Remember?”

  “Just in case. And…and here.” Patrick sat up.

  “What are you doing?”

  He was at his neck, unfastening the necklace, apparently, because he held it up. “Come here.”

  When I did, Patrick slipped the G pendant around my neck. “They have to be together…in the same place. G and P…Goose and Patrick.”

  “Why?”

  “Goose.”

  I turned to my name. “Jefferson?”

  “Once again, I hate to be the bearer of such tidings, but it’s time.”

  I gabbed Patrick’s hand.

  “I’m aware, too,” he said. “I’ll cherish you forever.”

  “Do I have to go, Jefferson?” I asked.

  “No, but if you want to, it has to be now.”

  “Goose…” It wasn’t only Jefferson’s voice I could hear.

  “Each time, though the pendulum oscillates slowly here, where you come from, the clock ticks faster and faster.” He spoke those words.

  “Goose! Come on. It’s Shelby.”

  I knew that before she said so.

  “I’ll always love you, Patrick.”

  “For all eternity,” he said.

  “Goose…”

  “But don’t be unhappy without me. Promise me you won’t,” I pleaded.

  “Nor you without me. I’d never want that.”

  “I won’t make a promise I’m sure I couldn’t keep.”

  “Goose. Max. Answer to something, please,” Shelby begged.

  “I love you, Love Camel.”

  “I love you, too.” The hard inhale wracked me with pain.

  “Goose.”

  “Am I back?” It was a silly question. The boat was gone. The night was pitch dark, no moon to be seen, and my body hurt all over. “Patrick.” And Patrick wasn’t beside me.

  “You are,” Steve said. “Thank God.” The last part was almost just under his breath.

  “You’re awake,” Shelby said.

  Everything outside was pink again, not in a delightful way, but because of all the red lights against the hospital’s off-white façade. My ambulance and another behind me lit up the place with flashing, twirling, and stationary ones, those on the roof, the side panels, above the back door, and the brake lights below it.