“Pull up a chair, or if you prefer, you can stretch out on the daybed,” Matt joked. “The doctor is in.”
Seth closed the door, straddled a chair. “This will do.”
“What’s going on?” Matt asked, guessing it involved Seth’s girlfriend, Karen. All the guys considered Matt an expert in the opposite sex, his having been openly courted by Ruth and now supposedly dating Ava. Both girls were hot. That both were linked with him gave him instant hetero cred he hadn’t asked for but couldn’t afford to refuse.
“Okay. Here goes.” Seth took a deep breath.
“Um. Well.” Another breath.
“Don’t judge me, but…”
“Dude,” Matt interrupted. “Just spit it out. I was about to jack off before you knocked. No judgment here.”
Sigh. “I’m struggling with…”
Seth’s voice dropped to a bare whisper. “…purity. Maintaining it, you know, with Karen? Any advice? Besides telling me to take a cold shower or do what you were gonna do?”
Matt didn’t know whether to laugh or cry—or both. The answer to Seth’s question was simple to comprehend and difficult to implement,as evidenced by his own recent fiasco with the man panties and the loss of Idabel’s friendship. Maybe Seth wasn’t ready for such truth. Maybe he hadn’t been either.
Matt sighed. “Do you want my honest opinion? Or the official propaganda?”
Seth laughed.
“I’m serious,” Matt said. “I’m not an expert or anything. I’m figuring things out just like you. I’ll tell you what I think, but what you do with that information is on you. No blaming me if things go to shit. And if you’re bothered that I just cussed, then you really aren’t ready to hear my advice.”
Seth grinned. “Between us, I think ‘shit’ is my dad’s favorite word—to my mom’s eternal horror. So, not bothered. Please continue.”
“Okay. Here’s another word for you then. ‘Rumspringa.’ Ever heard of it?”
Seth shook his head.
“It’s a German word. Rolls right off the tongue like all their others: ‘Blitzkrieg.’ ‘Wehrmacht.’ ‘Konzentrationslager.’ You get the point. Anyway, this particular word has been appropriated by the Amish. You know, buggies, beards…those Amish.”
Matt continued. “The Amish don’t just herd their teenagers into the faith like we do. They let them go explore the outside world, drink alcohol, have sex if they want—for a limited time called ‘Rumspringa.’
“No way!”
“Way,” Matt said. “Like a hall pass in school. It starts around age seventeen and can last until the person is in his—or her—early twenties. If the kids return to the fold—and nearly all do—that’s when they get baptized and settle down in the community.”
Seth leaned forward. “Did I miss something in Sunday School? I didn’t know this was an option in thefCOC!”
“Are you kidding?” Matt laughed. “This is heresy of the first order as far asfCOC is concerned. Plain and simple: I got tired of all the guilt and shame over every boner, every wet dream, and every wank. So, I called timeout. I’m on Rumspringa until further notice.”
Seth gave him a weak smile. No offense, but I gotta ask: are we talking rumspringa—little ‘r’ for guilt-free wanking? Or Rumspringa—capital ‘R’ for real sex?”
“Both.”
“HOLY SHIT!” Seth said, then laughed. “Rumspringa, baby!”
“Now get out,” Matt smiled. “Therapy session is over. Close the door behind you. I need some little ‘r’ time. I’m gonna ‘wank.’ ‘Choke the chicken.’ ‘Onan’ all over the place. ‘Burp the worm.’ ‘Polish the banister.’”
Chapter 26: The Fourth Fairy in the Room
Saturday, September 23, 1995
Shimmer Library did not live up to what the name implied—the shining, gleaming part. Its entrance was covered by a thick concrete slab of a portico supported by four squat concrete pillars. Hospital ambulance portals had more appeal.
Matt was on the second floor where a bank of glass provided a sentry’s view of the entry below. He was watching to see if Colton came alone or tried double-crossing the GM in their own double-cross.
