1989 Read online

  Unconsciousness again.

  Fuck.

  THIS time, waking up didn’t come easily. This time, waking up came with a monster headache and a taste in his mouth as if something had died in it. The floor underneath him was hard, and his nostrils flared at the combined smells of smoke, alcohol, vomit, and sweat.

  Had he thrown up? And if yes, why?

  Trying to figure out where his hands were and how to use them, Theo nearly banged his head at the metallic bar running around the counter’s base. Countless shoes had left their dirt on the bar, and when he put a hand to it, it felt as if he’d never let it go again. At least the bar helped him to get to his knees.

  When his stomach heaved, he left it at that.

  “Need a bucket?” the barman asked, annoyance in his voice rather than concern. “You hit your head pretty badly, but I’d appreciate it if you wouldn’t puke on the floor. Whilst you were out like a light I cleaned up, you know.”

  Huh?

  Theo squinted against the light, although there barely was any light to speak of. Only a few LEDs illuminated the bottles decorating the shelves behind the barman. Other than that, the place was dark.

  “Where am I?” Theo managed. “What time is it?”

  Actually, he wanted to know what year it was, but thought better of it right before the words would have tumbled out of his stupid mouth. It was today, of course. He was a forty-two-year-old, married-and-soon-to-be-divorced, unhappy, and unkissed man.

  “This is Shenanigan’s,” the barman said. “It’s twenty past midnight. You crashed when you were about to leave. Tried to wake you up, and when you didn’t, I waited.”

  Theo frowned. “I could have had a heart attack,” he pointed out, still on his knees. Only when his stomach had calmed down a bit did he get up.

  The sight wasn’t any better from up here. The pub was still ugly and dirty, the barman was still irritating, and Theo could still feel Luke’s lips on his.

  He closed his eyes. This was bad, far worse than he’d ever been able to imagine. He’d dreamed of Luke, of the night they’d never shared, and it had been so real, seemed so absolutely and utterly true it was impossible not to believe it had happened.

  “He said he loved me,” he murmured, not loud enough for the barman to hear.

  It was hard to breathe. Those three words, made up by his idiotic brain, meant more to him than his job, his wife, his entire life.

  “You didn’t have a heart attack. You look like you work out, and your heart was beating just fine,” the barman said, leaning at the counter. “I checked. So I decided to let you come back in your own time. You know you keeled over precisely at midnight? Funny, that. For a moment I thought there was some kind of light glowing around you, but it was just a car passing by outside. Now could you get lost? Promised my girls to take them to the zoo tomorrow morning. Zoo and cinema and the whole stuff. Saturday, you know. I don’t work Saturdays. My wife and daughter count on me, and I am looking forward to spending time with them. Don’t want to fall asleep whilst watching Puss in Boots or feeding a zebra.”

  Theo took a breath, trying to get himself under control. Right. He was standing on his own two feet, his chest was pain free, his heart indeed beating slowly and regularly. He’d had too much to drink and he’d been knocked off his feet for a few moments. Whilst gone, he’d had a nice little dream. No big deal, really.

  “Yeah,” he said vaguely. “Is there a motel somewhere close by? I bet I can’t get in back home. The missus surely had the locks changed by now.” Turning his wedding band on his finger, he wondered why he didn’t pull it off and throw it away. The ring wasn’t gold, just a fake because….

  What was her name again?

  “Thought you said you’d had a row with a guy?” the barman asked. Keys jingled in his hand. He so obviously wanted to lock up it was almost funny.

  And Theo did feel funny, kind of. As if his brain was too small for its contents; as if he didn’t know who he was or where he should be.

  When he should be.

  The wedding ring looked funny too. He’d worn it for years now; after all, he had bought it. Still, it didn’t look as he remembered it. This ring was a plain golden band, not the cheap thing he’d purchased from a pawnshop. This ring was beautiful, he only noticed now.

  Where did it come from?

  “How much did I drink tonight?” Theo asked, more to hear his voice than actually wanting an answer. He knew how much he’d drunk—too much, way too much.

  The barman laughed. “You came in here an hour ago, and you had one small beer and a coke. Look, why don’t you go home? I should have locked up half an hour ago. Surely you don’t want to get me into trouble?”

  Worried and anxious, Theo rubbed a tired hand across his even more tired face.

  No beard. Stubble, yes, as if he hadn’t shaved in a day, but definitely no beard.

  He’d grown a beard—well, he couldn’t even remember when, exactly. A moment ago he’d been sure he could tell the exact date, but now he couldn’t anymore. Had he really grown a beard? And if yes, what for? Luke had never liked beards. He always said they itched during kissing.

  “Hey, man,” the barman said. “Did you hear my words? You need to go home. I need to lock up. Get lost, okay?”

  “Hmm.” Theo frowned. He pulled the ring off his finger and dropped it on the bar. The small band spun around its axis several times before lying still. “Odd.”

  The barman sighed. He took a jacket, pulling it on and pushing the keys he’d been playing with into a pocket. “Take your time, man,” he grumbled. “I’ve got time. Endless amounts of time.”

  No beard. And his shoes, now that he noticed, were nice, but neither handmade nor Italian.

  He wore jeans instead of a suit. His belly was flat.

  Hadn’t he been a bit overweight just… recently?

  And the ring. He was fond of it and still—should it mean anything to him at all? Hadn’t he thought only a minute ago he’d bought it in a pawnshop?

  “Rubbish.” His voice sounded odd in his ears. Not as hoarse as he remembered it. Mellow, warmer, and friendlier.

  And the ring he’d bought at an expensive jewelry store in High Street.

  Confused, Theo shook his head. “It’s late,” he said to no one in particular. “I’m tired. No wonder I don’t know what day it is anymore.”

  “Friday,” the barman said. “Quarter to one in the morning. Just in case you wanted to know.”

  Home. Yeah, good idea. The only problem was that Theo couldn’t for the life of him remember his address.

  He patted himself down, looking for a pack of cigarettes. Then he laughed. “Stupid me,” he said. “I don’t smoke, do I? Never have.”

  The barman rolled his eyes. Before he could comment, there was a knock on the door.

  “Great. Another customer,” the barman said, but he seemed to have accepted his fate and nodded a “Come in” to the newcomer.

  “Theo.”

  A shiver ran down Theo’s spine upon hearing this voice. He knew it better than any other voice, although….

  Why had he just wanted to think although I haven’t heard it in decades?

  “Luke,” he said slowly upon turning, his throat tight with emotion and, strangely enough, fear.

  The man who approached him was slender and not that tall. His black hair was streaked with the occasional gray, but his eyes were of the same winter-sky blue as they’d been when Luke had been a young man of twenty-three. At his side was a medium-sized dog, by the looks of it a mixture between Alsatian and Labrador. It had floppy ears, was mainly black and brown, and the tip of its tail was white. When it saw Theo, it wagged its tail and gave one soft, happy bark.

  Theo patted its head. It felt as if he’d done so countless times before.

  “Mate,” the man who held the dog’s lead said. “It took me hours to find you. If Cara hadn’t insisted on coming in here, I would have walked right past.” Fondly, he ruffled the thick fur aro
und the dog’s neck.

  Theo, desperately trying to find something, anything sensible to say, could only look between dog and man and ask himself if he’d gone insane.

  The clock chimed one. A single, loud sound, deep and a bit spooky.

  Theo’s brain exploded in sudden pain. His memories, all of them, were shaken, as if inside him, an earthquake happened. Some memories broke; some of them vanished like water out of a perforated bucket. Many got rearranged, reshaped, recreated, relived. It hurt, and Theo gasped, reaching out for support.

  He got hold of Luke’s shoulder. His husband steadied him, taking a step until he stood close enough to wrap an arm around Theo’s waist.

  “Hey,” he said, brushing his lips across Theo’s cheek. “What’s wrong?”

  The pain was gone as quickly as it had flared up. Theo breathed in Luke’s unique fragrance, a mixture of cinnamon, rain, and oranges.

  “I had an odd dream,” Theo said, pulling a stool close and sitting down. “I tripped over my feet when I was about to leave. I must have hurt my head.”

  Luke grinned his special half smile that always went straight to Theo’s heart. “What did you dream about?” he asked. “Me?”

  Even the memory hurt. “Yeah. Sort of. And it was a nightmare. You—were dead. I had to live my life without you. I had to bury you. I’d never kissed you, and we’d never been to the boathouse. I was an unhappy, filthy-rich guy married to a woman who hated me.” Theo shook his head. “It was so real. When I woke up, I didn’t know where I was. For a moment I even thought I was him—that other guy, living in a world where you’d died in 1989.”

  “Is this why you took off your wedding band?” Luke picked up the ring, holding it out to Theo on his palm.

  Theo shook his head. “I don’t really know why I took it off,” he said doubtfully. “At the time, it seemed like a good idea.” Taking the ring, he read what was written on the inside: both their names and the wedding date. It had been a stormy day that December 10, five years after their first kiss and the night in the boathouse. Luke’s parents had been there, and his sister, Theo’s mother, a few friends.

  A perfect day.

  And yet—it seemed as if he was remembering it only now, as if a heartbeat ago, there hadn’t been a wedding at all.

  “I’m not dead,” Luke said, pecking a kiss to Theo’s cheek. “Just saying.”

  “I must have hit my head harder than I thought,” Theo murmured, rubbing his skull in search for a bump. “I can’t even remember why we had a row.” Resolutely, he put the ring back onto his finger, where it always had been, where it belonged.

  “I wouldn’t call it a row,” Luke said. “A heated discussion, maybe. And if it means that much to you, we can try and find a surrogate mother. Let’s take both paths, okay? Apply for adoption and look for a suitable woman who is willing to carry our baby.”

  The rush of relief threatened to blind Theo. Now he remembered Luke and him arguing over the same subject yet again: they both wanted a baby and kept disagreeing on how to get one. Now he could recall his need for fresh air and an unbearable urge to calm down. He’d walked out of their flat and into the night, through the deserted streets until he’d found this little pub. It had called to him, although he’d never been in there before. He’d stayed, although he was the only customer and the barman a strange guy, not willing to say as much as “hello” to him when he’d entered. Theo remembered how sad he’d been and how lost he’d felt.

  He wasn’t sad now, nor was he lost. Luke was here, as he’d always been for him. When his father had died. When he’d decided to study journalism instead of aiming for a professional sports career.

  Theo smiled, remembering their first kiss. It had been an impulsive thing to do, almost as if someone else had commandeered his body for a brief moment, but it had been the right thing, the only thing to do.

  “I love you,” Theo said, pulling Luke close.

  “Love you too,” Luke replied, raising his eyebrow. “Always have. Always will.”

  They kissed as if they hadn’t kissed before; they kissed as if years had passed since their last meeting, decades, even. Their tongues touched and with them, their minds.

  What might have been left of the Past that still didn’t fit the Now became gray and flat and took on the quality of something once read in a book.

  “Hey, you two lovebirds,” the barman said when the kiss turned somewhat passionate. “If you don’t leave voluntarily right now, I’ll call the cops.” Standing at the door, he held it open. “Out. Now.”

  Theo and Luke looked at each other, then at the barman, and laughed. “Thanks for your patience,” Theo said.

  Luke nudged the dog, who had fallen asleep at his feet. “Come on, Cara girl. We’re going home.”

  They left the bar hand in hand, and the barman looked after them until they’d turned a corner. “Damn,” he said, taking out his keys and finally locking up. “That one was a serious case of a fucked-up life.” He shook his head. “Fairy godmother. Honestly! No one ever gets that I just serve booze and, sometimes, make someone happy. I’m pretty sure there are worse jobs than that.”

  His girls were waiting. With a contented sigh, he walked home to his wife and kid.

  Get the whole package at

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  About the Author

  SAM C. LEONHARD is a journalist by profession who lives in southern Germany. Writing has been part of her life since age twenty, but somehow it was never enough to report the latest news about small-town politics. She wrote short stories for friends and family until a few years back she discovered the world of fandom. The Petulant Poetess is where she feels at home; slash became an addiction as soon as she stumbled over the first story.

  If not writing—which isn’t half as often as she’d like—Sam takes care of her son, her dog, a few cats, the madness at work, and life in general. She likes to believe she’s got some humor left after years of dealing with people who usually don’t understand what she’s talking about when she says she’s writing fantasy and gay porn on top of it.

  You can contact Sam at

  [email protected].

  More Daily Dose and Advent Calendar packages

  http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com

  Copyright

  1989 ©Copyright Sam C. Leonhard, 2012

  Published by

  Dreamspinner Press

  4760 Preston Road

  Suite 244-149

  Frisco, TX 75034

  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 Catt Ford

  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: 4760 Preston Road, Suite 244-149, Frisco, TX 75034 http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/

  Released in the United States of America

  June 2012

  eBook Edition

  eBook ISBN: 978-1-61372-625-9

 

 

  Sam C Leonhard, 1989

 

 

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