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Ever since their wedding 8 months earlier, Patrick had tried to start this particular conversation with his husband a number of times. It was a… touchy subject, but he knew it was also a necessary one. After the first few failed attempts, Patrick decided to let the matter rest for the time being. But then he spoke with his parents who told him a story about a friend of theirs who became entangled in a legal battle when her husband was in the hospital because he hadn’t updated his living will and, well, that inadvertently put the fear of God in Patrick. So to speak.
Patrick was determined to have this conversation and this time, he had a plan. A good plan. He bought David’s favorite bottle of wine and stopped for pizzas on the way home. He also picked up a mini molten chocolate lava cake. The one that made David emit the kind of sound Patrick only ever heard him make in the bedroom.
Unfortunately, there wasn't enough food in the world to get his husband to talk about estate planning. Once Patrick brought it up, again, David stormed out of the room. Again. Patrick heaved a sigh and followed him.
“David, we need to talk about this,” Patrick said in a calm, even tone.
“I don’t see why.” David retorted as he reached the living room and spun to face his husband.
Patrick thought of his parents’ friend. He chose his words very carefully. “Because estate planning is difficult and if we don’t prepare now, things could get very complicated later on.”
“Okay, fine. But do we really have to talk about it? If this is so complicated, then why don’t we just hire a lawyer and make them do it?”
“Oh we absolutely will hire a lawyer, but before we even get to that point, we need to figure out all the details ourselves first.”
“What kind of details?” David grimaced and continued pacing.
Patrick took a deep breath and a step forward, “Personal details. For instance, it would be helpful to know what arrangements you’d want for… a funeral. I would hate to ruin the party by getting the wrong kind of flowers.” He was hoping gently teasing David would diffuse the tension. It didn’t.
“Okay well, if I’m dead, then why does it matter?” David threw his hands up in the air, still pacing and breathing hard and glaring at Patrick.
“I mean, do you really trust me to plan a funeral? As you’ve said many times, our aesthetics are wildly different.”
Patrick smiled, but his attempts still weren’t working. David walked to the other side of the room, as far away from his husband as possible. With his back to the room he said; “Why do we even need to talk about this now ? I mean, it’s not like we’re… old.”
“Well we’re not exactly young, either.”
David whirled around, hands on his hips, looking scandalized. Patrick almost laughed. “David, it’s important to have a plan in place. I need to make sure I know what to do if you… die first.”
“Who says I’ll die first?” David demanded.
“No one is saying that. It’s just that statistically one of us will die first. It could just as easily be me.”
“Oh, so now you’re dying first? You’re just going to go and leave me a widow? I’ll have to join a bridge club and…” he swallowed hard, “buy a veil.”
Patrick easily thought of four different witty retorts, but David was finally losing steam and he needed to keep them on track. He took a breath and stepped closer; “Eventually one of us will die, David. We both need to be prepared for that happening.”
“Okay, but can we not, right now though? We’ve only been married for a few months and all this talk about dying is just going to jinx us. Who knows if either of us will live to see forty by this point.” David looked horrified, although Patrick wasn’t sure if it was at the idea of dying or turning forty.
Patrick took a deep breath and closed the rest of the space between them. David finally stopped pacing. Patrick placed his hands on David’s face and kissed him. David kept his own hands on his hips but kissed his husband back.
“I don’t like thinking about this either,” Patrick said softly, wrapping his arms around David’s waist, “I don’t even want to imagine my life without you.”
David looked slightly mollified. He stroked Patrick’s shoulders. “But…” he prompted.
Patrick briefly smiled. “But. We do need to talk about this. If we can get everything arranged now, well before we actually need to, then when-“ David glared at him again, “If. If something should happen to either of us, we’ll be ready. We won’t have to worry about flower arrangements or bank statements. We can focus instead on what’s really important: the outpouring of gifts and attention from our friends and family.”
David laughed a little, kissed his husband again, and leaned his forehead against Patrick’s.
“I know. You’re right. We have to plan this out. But… is there a way to do it without actually talking about it? I really hate it.”
“Yeah, I hate it too.”
“You do?” David sounded genuinely surprised.
“Of course I do! I hate talking about this. I hate thinking about this! I can’t imagine a world without you in it. What kind of life is that?” David kissed him again and wrapped his arms more tightly around his husband. Then Patrick suddenly jerked his head back. “Maybe we don’t have to talk about this.”
“That’s what I’ve been saying!”
“No, I mean, maybe there’s a way to do this without talking about it. What about email? I’ll send you questions, you send me the information and we’ll never have to discuss any of this out loud again.”
Patrick felt David fully relax in his arms now. He took a deep breath and exhaled against Patrick’s neck. “Okay,” he muttered.
And that’s what they did. Patrick would email David questions and David would send back stiff, professional responses with all of the information but none of his usual warmth. Any information that was too sensitive to send electronically (bank account numbers, passwords) was left on sticky notes in their shared home office.
Patrick wanted to add some levity to his emails. Include a joke or a sexy send-off, troll a little, to ease the stress of it all. But instinctively he knew that’s not what his husband needed. So instead, he kept his tone professional and his wording as gentle as possible.
Before long, Patrick started to notice a pattern. Whenever he sent the big emails- the ones that asked about more than tax forms or password information, some time over the next few days, David would meet up with Stevie. They would smoke. A lot. The next morning, there would be a detailed (and surprisingly legible) reply in Patrick’s inbox.
And oftentimes, after David sent back his reply, they made love slowly the next night. More fingers trailing limbs, more soft kisses. More sweet whispers exchanged in the dark.
Because they both knew that someday they would need the information exchanged in those emails. Someday, one of them would be answering questions about flower arrangements and casket selection. A last will and testament would be read aloud. A side of the bed would grow cold.
So on those nights they held each other. Moved slowly together. Memorized each distinct gasp, every curve and line of each other’s bodies. They took each small detail and locked it away and kept it safe. Because just as with tax ID numbers and color schemes, one day, they will need that information too.