Seven Minutes

Seven Minutes. She’d never played Seven Minutes in Heaven until now.

The year is 1980. They are in London; her and few friends on a short holiday away from all the stress of work and family; a few days where they can party and just generally let their hair down, and have a good time.

It was recently her eighteenth birthday and because she is in England, she can legally drink alcohol. So for her birthday her friends had heard about this club in London where anyone whose anyone was going . So of course they were going and she didn’t have a choice in the matter.

She had to admit as they walked down by the Thames River; admiring the Thames Bridge on their way to this club, that she was pretty excited to be able to let her hair down and party, despite her earlier protests at not wanting to go.

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She felt as if she was in heaven as the base pumped loudly and rhythmically around her; she was dancing and she was in heaven. She moved her body in time with the music as she felt herself getting lost; this club was a good idea she mused as she began to increase her moves in time with music.

She could hear someone shouting what sounded like her name, but she was having way to much fun dancing to the music. She screamed when she felt someone’s hand on her shoulder, she turned to see her sister staring at her. “Paula, we’re going to this party with some guys over there.” she felt herself lost for words when she spotted who her friend was pointing too; her sights set firmly on a guy on the end.

“Let’s go,” she smiled as she took hold of her friends hand and they walked in the direction of the exit, the guys and the rest of their friends following. She began to feel slightly nervous as they turned onto a London street filled with rather nice, elegant London homes. She could hear music coming from a house further down the street; must be their destination she’d mused as they carried on to this house.

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“Ok here’s the deal!” a guy yelled after some time had passed; everyone had congregated by a cupboard, those who hadn’t were either passed out or too busy dancing. She herself would have rather been dancing but her sister had dragged her to the cupboard, insisting that she join in. “We are going to play ‘Seven Minutes of Heaven!’ in this cupboard!” the guy pointed to the cupboard.

“Oh no,” she whispered as she watched two people enter the cupboard, and after exactly seven minutes had passed they emerged looking pretty please with themselves. She whimpered in protest as she felt her sister and a few others pushing her towards the cupboard. “WENDY!” She yelled as she felt herself being pushed inside the cupboard. “Might as well have some fun with this,” she mused as she heard someone entering the cupboard with her.

“I’m sorry they are making us do this,” he replied quietly; his posh British accent sending chills down her spine as she spoke. She would definitely remember that voice.

“I’m not,” she replied; her anger long forgotten as she moved closer to his voice. “This may be the only time, I get to let my hair down and not think about the consequences of my actions,” she replied confidently as her lips found his; coming together in a flurry of passion and heat.

She moaned softly as she felt herself being backed up against a wall, his lips leaving hers so he could move to her neck. His skilled lips; his strong tongue tasting and mapping her neck as his hands pulled their waists close together. Allowing her to feel his arousal pressed up against her; hot and hard.

“Come on, harder! Only seven minutes!” she hissed into his ear. She moaned loudly as he responded by pushing up her dress and unzipping his jeans before he quickly moved her thong aside so he could thrust into her. “Ahhh,” she sighed as he began to move roughly inside of her; rough just how she liked it, once she’d gotten over the pain of a man being inside of her for the first time.

Her pleasure seemed to intensify as her shoulders were pushed painfully against the wall with each powerful thrust of his hips. He groaned loudly, increasing the speed and intensity of his thrusts as she dug her nails into his ass; egging him on.

“Fuck,” he growled as she felt him pushing closer against her as he came; his orgasm sending her over the edge into a place of ecstasy before they both came down from their high.

He kissed her softly in the darkness; their clothes just so as the door opened, and they were pulled back out by their friends who were hooting and hollering in celebration. They never managed to get a look of each other; they were dragged in different directions by their friends who tried to find out what happened in their. Both simply replied: “Seven minutes of heaven!”

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She groaned loudly as she once again leaned back on her heels; sighing as she for another morning reached for a cloth to wipe her mouth. As she’d once again awoken with the urge to empty her stomach. She couldn’t understand what was wrong with her; she really, really couldn’t.

The past few days were all just normal, everyday, days yet her morning routine started with her leaning over the toilet. She didn’t feel ill; she felt perfectly fine, so this whole throwing up situation was one of total confusion.

Maybe she was just simply dancing to hard. That had to be it. There just couldn’t simply be any other explanation for her feeling the way she was each and every morning; there just couldn’t be. She wouldn’t allow herself to think of any other possibilities. She just wouldn’t.

“Aw honey,” her sister sighed as she entered the bathroom to spot Paula once again on her knees in front of the toilet. “You throwing up again? I think you need to go and see the doctor?”

“No. I’ll be fine,” she replied staggering a bit as she stood. “I’m fine! End of the conversation!” she snapped before leaving the room, to begin dancing as she did every morning.

“Stupid, stupid people telling me what I should and shouldn’t do!” she muttered as she grabbed her keys, before heading out to her car. “Off to dance!” she called out to Wendy who was stood in the door way, before she sped off into the distance.


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“Where am I?” she whispered as she opened her eyes to see herself in an unfamiliar room; her sister, mother and someone she assumed to be a doctor staring over her.

“Honey, you uh… fainted at dance and hit your head. They called an ambulance and you were brought here. This is Dr. Marshall,” her mother said as she pointed to the unfamiliar woman.

“How do you feel Paula?” Dr. Marshall asked as she picked up and looked at the chart, which had been attached to Paula’s bed.

“I feel fantastic,” she lied, wincing as she touched the sore spot on her forehead. “Can I go now?”

“Liar!” Wendy snapped before turning to face the doctor. “She’s been throwing up every morning, and this morning after she’d thrown up she staggered as she stood.”

“Wendy!” she pouted like a defiant child who’d just been caught stealing a cookie from the cookie jar.

“Is this true?” her mother whispered in shock; Paula nodded.

“She’s also been eating irregularly because of her vomiting!” Wendy chimed in.

“Well,” the doctor replied as she set the chart back in its place. “We are going to need to run a few tests, and take some of your blood. I’ll be back shortly.”


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“Come in!” she called as she heard a knock on her door. At her permission the door opened and Dr. Marshall entered carrying a clip board with her test results on.

“I have the results of your tests. Do you want your family here or do you want privacy?” she enquired.

“They can stay,” she replied a little uneasily; she was scared. What was he going to tell her. Did she have some kind of killer disease or something. What was it?

“Ok. Well according to the results of your blood test, you are pregnant. We are going to need to do a ultrasound, to determine how far along you are. I’m just going to go and get the ultrasound room ready. I’ll be back shortly,” Dr. Marshall replied before leaving three very shocked Abdul woman behind.

“This is all your fault!” she screamed at Wendy, once the door had closed.

“My fault!” Wendy yelled in horror. “How is this my fault?”

“You dragged me to that stupid party!! You made me play that stupid game in the cupboard!” she accused.

“You didn’t have to do anything! No one would have known!” Wendy retorted. “You had sex didn’t you!”

“Of course I bloody did! I’m pregnant aren’t I? Babies aren’t made by magical baby-making fairies!” she screamed before curling herself into a ball where she began to sob.

“Honey,” her mother began.

“Just leave me alone!” Paula screamed through her sobs. “Both of you!”

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“Oh, God, what am I going to do?” she whispered, placing her hands on stomach as her mother and sister left the room.

“I told you to leave me alone!” she screamed turning to face the door, as she heard It opening. “Sorry,” she whispered as she saw Dr. Marshall entering the room.

“You want to come meet your baby?” she smiled sweetly as she closed the door behind her.

“Yeah,” Paula whispered as she accepted the tissues handed to her by Dr. Marshall; she wiped her eyes before climbing off the bed. “Let’s go see my baby.”


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“So I am fifteen weeks pregnant, almost sixteen weeks.. I’m in my second trimester. How did I not pick it up this late?” Paula said as the three of them got into the car; her mother reversing slowly out of the car park.

“You’ve had a lot on,” Wendy said reassuringly from the front passenger seat. “Your always dancing, you never stop. I’m not surprised, that you never noticed symptoms until now.”

“Thanks,” she replied. “I guess, I’m going to become a mom. I wonder if my baby will sound British,” she whispered as she let out a shaky laugh.

“Bloody hell darling!” Wendy replied in a really bad British accent. Causing Paula to begin laughing hysterically; tears rolling down her cheeks, as she held her stomach; the laughter turned to sobs as she felt the small bump beneath her hand. She was going to be a mother. In just under six months, she would be a mother.

As their mother pulled over and stopped the car, Wendy clambered into the back and wrapped her arms around her little sister. Hugging her tightly as she sobbed. “Oh!” she gasped, her hands flying to her stomach. “I felt something,” she whispered as she placed her sisters hand on her stomach. “My baby, it moved!” her tears once again changing to tears of joy.


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“Come on honey! Push!” Wendy said encouragingly as her sister let out a groan of defeat, her head falling back against the bed. “Push!”

“I can’t push anymore,” she sobbed as she clutched her sisters hand tightly. “It hurts too much. I can’t push anymore.”

“You can Paula! You can!” Dr. Marshall spoke encouragingly. “Here, give me your hand. Do you feel that? That’s your baby!”

“My baby,” she whispered joyfully. “Ahhhh!” she screamed as she bore down for the final time; her baby exiting her body soon after.

“It’s a boy!” Wendy whispered to her as her nephew took his first breathes; screaming loudly. “He’s so beautiful.”

“He’s my boy,” she whispered her heart breaking a little as she remembered her son’s father; he would never, ever know he had a son. Their son would remain fatherless his whole life. “Wendy, say hello to Eric Matthew Abdul,” she said smiling as watched her son being wrapped up in a blue blanket by Dr. Marshall. Who then promptly turned to Paula, walking the short distance across the room to place him in his mothers arms.

“Hey baby!” she beamed proudly little Eric wrapped his small hand around her finger.


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She smiled warmly as she checked on her son before she herself headed to bed. She laughed softly as she saw her two-year old son clutching his favourite teddy; a blue dog known as Wonderdog.

Her father and sister had just recently returned from a trip to London. They’d returned with several gifts for little Eric; a teddy-bear, a new bed set and pyjamas all affiliated with a blue dog aka Wonderdog. Who apparently was a new phenomenon to hit the UK.

As soon as Eric had clapped eyes on his new gifts, he became obsessed with Wonderdog; refusing to part with his teddy. The video he’d been given of Wonderdog was used to put him to sleep at night.

“I love you my beautiful boy,” she whispered. Placing a kiss on his sleeping forehead as she tucked him into bed, before turning the lights and television off. “So beautiful,” she whispered as she headed into her bedroom across the hall.

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As the years passed, and Eric grew older. She noticed how honest her son was, he was very stubborn and direct. He wasn’t afraid of saying what he felt; when he’d seen her ‘Coldhearted’ video, he replied: “What a hot momma, I’ve got!” Quite a response from an eight-year old.

Eric was a very confident child, often he spoke his mind regardless of what the consequences were. Those who met him assumed he was a very cruel, arrogant and chauvinistic child. But those who knew him, knew this was just a front; the real Eric Abdul was loving, kind, trustworthy who always stuck up for and defended those who mattered to him.

Eric was taller than his mother - he wasn’t the tallest boy around though. He had black hair, his skin was a lot paler than his mothers. He also had ice blue eyes; all of these qualities made him a huge hit with the ladies.

These qualities had almost earned him a short stint in Juvenile detention. He’d come home from camp early to find Brad holding his mother up against the wall by the scruff of her neck; her nose bleeding, the blood mingling with her tears. Eric had flown across the room picking up a vase as he crossed, he’d smashed this vase across Brad’s head; knocking him out cold.

This gave Paula the courage to finally leave Brad; Eric made her explain to him what had happened. He and Brad reached an agreement; Brad wouldn’t report Eric to the police for GBH and Eric wouldn’t report Brad for domestic violence. On her divorce papers and what she’d told the world, their marriage ended because of irreconcilable differences.

They were celebrating Eric’s 21st birthday when she received a phone call from her manager saying some man named Simon Fuller was interested in getting her on his new show ‘American Idol’, asking if she would be interested in coming to a meeting to discuss this.

She said yes almost immediately. She hadn’t held down a decent job In years - not that it mattered. She had enough money, so she didn’t have to work again if she didn’t want to. She’d fallen in love with the idea as soon as Simon Fuller began explaining it to her. She’d laughed when he’d warned of a man named Simon Cowell - saying he was a womanizer, who loved nothing more than a beautiful woman. She hadn’t felt like a beautiful woman in years -well not since that night; the night their baby had been conceived.


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“I’m so nervous!” she squealed as she rushed into the kitchen; searching for her other gold hoop earring. “Where is it!” she squeaked, knocking over the jam jar as she passed the table.

“MOM!” Eric’s loud voice cut through her day dream, bringing her back down to earth as she stood still; watching him with shock written all over her face. “Your going to be fine. So stop worrying about!” he said reassuringly as he wrapped his arms around her; hugging her tightly to him.

“Thanks darling,” she said, squeezing his cheeks lightly before grabbing, her bag which contained her keys, phone and most importantly her earring. “I should be back by dinner!” she called as she rushed out of the house.


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“So sorry I’m late!” she squealed as she entered the meeting room to see everyone’s eyes were on her. “My car started acting funny. Carry on,” she said nervously as she took a seat next to a man she recognised to be Randy Jackson.

The meeting continued quickly after. Her attention was focused more on a guy sat opposite her, rather than on the actual meeting. He seemed so familiar; she didn’t know what it was about him though. She quickly snapped herself out of her trance when he winked at her - this man was Simon Cowell, the womanizer that Simon Fuller had told her about. She blushed despite herself.

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“Paula?” The meeting had finished. She turned her head to see Simon Fuller standing with Randy, Simon and some blonde guy. “Come here a second will you.”

“Yes?” she enquired once she reached the group - everyone else had left, so it was only them left in the room.

“Seeing as you were a little bit late, you missed introductions. This is Randy Jackson. Who I’m told you already know. Ryan Seacrest - he’s going to be the co-host and finally this is Simon Cowell, our resident ‘Mr Nasty’” Simon Fuller replied as he pointed each man out by name.

“Baby girl! Been a while!” Randy smiled happily as Paula rushed into his arms; hugging him tightly.

“I know!” she beamed as he released her. “It’s been way too long! How are you?”

“I’m really, really good. Looking forward to getting on the road and seeing the kids; seeing what they can do. Not looking forward to being away from the family, how about you?”

“Eric’s just come back from travelling. I too am looking forward to seeing what the kids can do, I missed him so much and now I have to leave him for two months,” her voice trembled a bit as she spoke the words. “I’ll be fine,” she a few moments later.

“Hi I’m Paula,” she said extending her hand to the Englishmen.

“Simon. Simon Cowell,” he replied, accepting her hand. She felt as if the breathe had been knocked out of her body as he spoke - he was the guy she slept with during her ill-fated trip to London all those years ago. Simon Cowell was the father of her son Eric Matthew Abdul.

“Pleasure,” she replied through gritted teeth. After all these years he was standing in front of her, and he had no idea who she was. No idea that across town was the son he never knew he had. It should have shocked her that he had no idea who she was but it didn’t. Everything Simon Fuller had told her about him was true - he was a womanizer. So he’d probably slept with so many woman, he’d never remember them all.

“Excuse me. I need to go home now and see my son,” she replied shooting Simon a look of annoyance, before leaving him and Randy standing there shocked, at her reaction.

“I’ve only just met her and already she doesn’t like me. Wow that’s a new record!” Simon joked as Randy clapped him on the back. He liked Randy already; he and Randy were going to get on famously.


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“Hey! Don’t break my door!” Wendy said as she opened the door to reveal Paula almost breaking down, as she pounded on her sisters door. “What’s wrong?” she asked as Paula walked past her and into the living room.

“I found him,” Paula whispered as she and Wendy sat down on the sofa, facing one another. “I…” she started before her tears came. She quickly stood so that she could pace around the room - trying to calm herself down from the state she was in. “After twenty-one years - almost twenty-two years pass. I’ve finally found him.”

“Who?” Wendy asked, confused.

“Eric’s father!” Paula screamed frustratingly. “I found him! The guy who knocked me up!”

“How did you do that? I thought you didn’t know who he was?”

“I didn’t. I’ve never forgotten his voice. I’d remember it anywhere and today for the first time in almost twenty-two years, I heard his voice. I’m going to be sitting next to this guy for six months, and he doesn’t even remember who I am!”

“Who is he?” Wendy enquired.

“The British judge Simon Cowell. The judge from Pop Idol. The one who is known as ‘Mr Nasty’,” she cried. “You know what the funniest thing is? He looked right at me and winked. He doesn’t remember me at all!”



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“Who is that?” she said aloud to herself as she pulled into her driveway to see an unfamiliar black Mercedes parked next Eric’s car. Once she’d parked her car, and gathered her stuff she walked around the black car trying to decipher who it belonged too - nothing gave the owners identity away.

“Eric!” she called from the hallway as she set her bag down on the table.

“We’re in here!” he called back from the living room. She could hear a football game playing.

She entered the living room to see Eric and Simon sitting together on the sofa watching the football game. Despite the fact that she was shocked and frozen to the place that she stood, she smiled when she saw how confused Simon was when Eric would start shouting at the television screen. Eric would then try to explain to Simon what was happening on the screen; it didn’t seem to help. Simon’s confused expression seemed to increase.

“Excuse me!” she said loudly. “What are you doing here in my house?” she accused, her gaze somewhat narrowed as it focused on Simon. She nearly ceased breathing as she saw how alike Simon and Eric were; they were literally the spitting image of one another. The same hair colour and style. The same build, height and weight. Everything about them was identical even down to the shape of their ears and noses.

“Well,” he began as he clapped Eric on the back, before he stood to walk over to Paula. “I don’t know you, you don’t know me. If looks could kill I’d be dead, after the look you gave me before. I came over because I wanted to know what your problem with me is.”

“I don’t… I don’t have a problem,” she stuttered as she walked away from them, into the kitchen.

“Mom you quite clearly do,” Eric said as he and Simon followed her into the kitchen.

She turned around to see Eric and Simon standing by the kitchen table. She nearly ceased breathing as she saw how alike Simon and Eric were; they were literally the spitting image of one another. The same hair colour and style. The same build, height and weight. Everything about them was identical even down to the shape of their ears and noses.

Simon was holding Thumbelina in his arms, as Thumbelina was bombarded him with yelps and kisses. “Hello darling,” he cooed as he moved a chair from the table so that he could sit with Thumbelina on his lap. “She’s such a beautiful dog.”

“Seriously what have i done to offend you?” Simon asked as he watched Thumbelina flake out on his lap - it was a hot, humid day.

“It’s what you didn’t do,” she whispered quietly, as she turned to the sink.

“I’m sorry, but you are going to have to be more specific. What have I done?” he pleaded one more time.

“Eric honey sit down,” she whispered as she covered her face with her hands.

“Why?”

“Just sit!” she yelled quickly.

Only once Eric had sat down at the table on the opposite side to Simon, did she reveal her face; the distress evident on her features - like she had some big secret to reveal.

“I have something to tell you both. Something which I only just discovered,” she began.

“Go on,” Simon whispered to her as she paused for too long. He quietly set Thumbelina down on the floor.

“Simon have you ever played ‘Seven Minutes of Heaven?’” she asked looking straight at him.

“I’m not sure,” he replied a confused look on his face. After a few moments his eyes lit up with recollection. “Yeah once, about twenty years ago.”

“Twenty-two actually,” she replied as she looked over at Eric, who was staring at her expectedly.

“How the hell would you know?” he accused.

“Because… because I was the girl you fooled around with!” She screamed back at him; watching as the expressions of both Simon and Eric become one of nothing but pure shock. “And I ended up knocked up because of you!” she screamed before walking out into the back garden.

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“What did you just say!” She heard Simon croak from behind her as the door flew open. She could hear two sets of footsteps behind her as she stood staring down at the pool watching the water ripple. She felt an arm on her shoulder as she was spun around. She gasped as she saw she was now face to face with a very irate looking Simon Cowell. “What did you just say!” he repeated even angrier than before.

“Answer him!” Eric yelled as he moved to stand next to Simon. “Mom please,” he whispered as he softly laid a hand on her arm.

“Simon you are Eric’s father. I’ve never forgotten your voice; never. I knew who you were the second you greeted me at the meeting. As soon as I left I completely freaked out; you are my babies father-”

“No!” he bellowed. “No, no I am not! Stop lying!” he begged as he turned away from them. It wasn’t long before he turned to her again; fire blazing in his eyes. “If this was true, then you wouldn’t have kept my son from me!” he spat one last time before turning to walk away; leaving them behind.

“Simon!” She screamed as she saw the rear lights of his car as he sped out her driveway. “No!” she sobbed as she ran out of the drive, only to see his car being hit head-on by another car. “Eric call an ambulance!” She screamed to Eric who was standing in the doorway before she took off up the road to Simon’s car.


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“He needs an urgent blood transfusion or he’ll die,” the doctor said to Paula and Eric as they stood waiting urgently for news on Simon’s condition.

“Isn’t there anyone who can give it to him?” she asked.

“Simon has a very rare blood type o-negative -”

“My son is o-negative,” she said quickly as she turned to Eric. “Will you do this for you father?” he simply nodded as the doctor asked him to follow her out of the room, so that he could quickly donate the blood.


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“Um…” she turned her head to see Simon trying to awaken himself from the aesthetic given to him before his surgery. He moaned softly as his eyes slowly opened. “What happened?” he asked, his voice no more than a whisper.

“A driver hit you head on, you needed an emergency blood transfusion as well as emergency surgery for your lacerated liver. Don’t move too much. You also have a mild concussion and whiplash.”

“Blood transfusion?” he whispered. “My blood is so rare. Who gave me blood?”

“I did,” a voice replied from the shadows. “Me. Your son,” Eric whispered as he moved to stand in front of the bed. “Here is the DNA test confirming it, if you don’t believe us,” he said as he passed Simon a piece of paper.

“My son,” Simon whispered after a few moments; his eyes shining with tears as he reached out to grasp Eric’s hand. “You named him after my dad. Thank you,” Simon whispered as he used his other hand to grasp Paula’s.

“Your dad?” she asked confused.

“His name was Eric, and he died three years ago,” Simon whispered as those tears fell down his cheeks. “He was my best friend,” he said softly as he allowed himself to break down. Eric moved to hug his father - they clung tightly to one another.

A huge weight was lifted. A family was brought together. A game was won.