Brenda Hampton and other Hollywood bigwigs own these characters. Just so
you know I know it.
You should always be careful what you say, especially on the 7th Heaven boards at Television Without Pity (http://www.televisionwithoutpity.com/). You see, 7th Spud challenged the TWoP writers to write an account of Matt's wedding night, an idea I at first balked at, because quite frankly the idea of Matt and sex together is something I find pretty darn icky. But then Grace W. was kind enough to remind me that I am by my own admission a writer who likes a challenge, and that I tend to tackle projects I'm not sure I can carry off. Hence the following little tale, which deals with both Matt's wedding night and my strong impression that Matt Camden is hiding something sexual that he is terribly ashamed of, and which accounts, at least in part, for his years of rude and prudish behavior on the show. And since Grace W. nudged me into putting aside my other work to pen this story, it is to her that it is affectionately dedicated.
PART ONE
* * *
I don't know what to think anymore. It doesn't make sense. It isn't him, not like him, at all.
But I cannot deny what I saw.
No.
They're married now, the two of them, after the big wedding that wasn't supposed to be big, and Mary and Ruthie and I stood there as Maids of Honor, and Simon and Robbie as Groomsmen. Mom was in her best dress with Mrs. Glass in hers, and Dad and Rabbi Glass each performed the ceremony. There were hijinks, of course, because there always are. It's part of our family, part of being a Camden.
But not this. Not this image in my head that won't go away.
We sent them off, on to their wedding night, their honeymoon, and afterward Mom cried and Dad cried and Mary and I looked around and wondered when it would be us in the beautiful white gowns, when it would be our fingers that would wear the gemette wedding rings.
Ruthie told us we were idiots. She had this smirk on her face, like she knew something, but we couldn't chase her in our high heels and so we never managed to get her to tell us what it was. After the wedding we all drove home and parked and went in and changed out of our nice clothes.
It was quiet for a long time. We ate a light dinner and went to bed early. Mary had to be back at the JetBlue office the next day and I had classes to attend.
Maybe I should have suspected something earlier. Maybe I should have noticed that they were missing.
Because they were. I look back on it now and it all seems so clear. I had ten pairs, and now there were only seven.
Maybe they were in the wash.
#
Matt and Sarah returned from their honeymoon at Niagara Falls in New York, and we welcomed them into our house. It was crowded, and I wondered as I watched them kissing in the hall, in the bathroom, in the living room, why they didn't just move in with her parents where they would have a little more privacy. It was worse when Mary came to visit, because she would crowd up the room with Ruthie and me and I couldn't study with them there.
The only place it was quiet was the garage apartment.
It wasn't finished yet; there was still wiring and drywalling to be done and the tub and toilet had to be installed. Mom kept talking about it, about having it there for Matt and Sarah when they came back from school on holidays. And Mary would come back a lot too, since JetBlue was going to be flying into Glenoak International Airport soon and we wouldn't have to drive up to Sacramento to get her every time she came in.
For several weeks Matt and Sarah stayed with us. There were more hijinks. Simon's friend Morris was around a lot. He was cute, but he never seemed interested in looking at me.
I was in the living room watching TV when Sarah came and sat down.
"Hi, Lucy. Do you have a moment?"
I shut off the television. I had an assignment due soon on comparative theology and I wanted to ask her about being a Jew, so this was perfect. That's the way it always works in my family; the same things happen to all of us at the same time.
"Sure," I said.
She sat.
She blushed.
"What is it?" I asked. I knew I had to learn to talk to people, since someday I'm going to become a Minister.
"Is Matt all right?" she asked at last.
I shrugged. "What do you mean?"
She watched me for a moment. I watched her back. I think that's the way Dad does it.
"Lucy," she began. Her voice was serious. Instinctively I looked behind the couch for Ruthie.
"Lucy, I need to know if Matt is all right."
"Sure he is," I said.
Her eyes darted around; they did that a lot when she was in our house.
"Listen to me, Lucy. I need you to swear you won't tell anyone what I'm going to tell you, all right? Can I trust you?"
I looked again for Ruthie. I didn't see her, but that didn't matter. She was around somewhere. I know how things are in my home.
"Let's go for a drive," I suggested.
Sarah nodded.
#
In the car she relaxed a bit. I backed us out of the driveway and we drove to the park near our house, and I pulled up to the curb and stopped the car. I turned to her.
"What is it?" I asked.
She watched me warily.
"Can I trust you?" she asked. "You won't repeat any of this?"
"I swear," I told her. Swearing will be an important part of my job when I become a Minister.
She nodded then.
"All right," she said. "I'm worried about Matt."
"Why?"
"Before he met me, had he ever ...."
I watched her quizzically.
"Adult relations," she said finally. "Sex. Had he ever had sex before he met me?"
I laughed. I shouldn't have, but I couldn't help it.
"Matt? Sex?"
She blushed, looked uncomfortable.
"I'm sorry," I said.
She looked at me. Her face was drawn.
"Matt never even thought about having sex," I told her. "He spent all his time turning down girls. There was Cheryl, for example. He dumped her because she wanted sex. And he was always making sure that Mary and I never had a chance to have sex, either. Once he nearly beat up my boyfriend. He was the one who went up to Sasha's window to make sure Simon wasn't having sex."
Sarah looked scared.
"Did he ever .... talk to you about sex?"
I shook my head. "Well, there was that one time he videotaped it."
Her eyes went wide. "What?"
"Oh, not sex. No. I've never had sex. Never. I can't have sex before I'm married, you know. I'm going to be a Minister. No. He had a class project, and he wanted to videotape Mom and Dad talking to me and Mary about sex."
She went pale.
"I see."
That was all she said for a while. I thought about turning on the radio, maybe listening to some music. Then she lowered her brow into her hand, sighed heavily.
I should ask her what's wrong. That's what a Minister would do.
She turned to me.
"I'm worried about him," she said.
"Why?"
"He's ... strange, a little bit."
"What do you mean?" I asked.
"Swear you won't tell, Lucy. This is important to me."
I nodded. This was good Minister practice.
She looked out the window as she spoke.
"On our wedding night ... he was strange. He kept wanting to touch my ...."
I listened.
She shook her head, looked back at me. "I mean, on our wedding night. In the hotel, after the ceremony."
"What other wedding night is there?" I asked.
She still looked uncomfortable.
"I was wearing one of those white corsets, and stockings. The kind you see in the bridal magazines."
I nodded. I had looked at Matt's copy. I figured he didn't need it anymore.
"He didn't want me to take them off. When we .... And then ...."
I wished that I had asked Mom and Dad about white corsets and stockings when they were telling me about sex, because I wasn't sure what Sarah was talking about now. Of course, maybe they had said something and I had missed it; I'd have to check the tape.
Sarah had gone silent. She looked away again, rubbed her brow.
"I need to know, Lucy. Is there something wrong with Matt?"
I shook my head.
"Of course not. He's a great guy. You're lucky he found you."
She didn't look so sure. I figured it was something about being Jewish that Matt had gotten wrong. There were probably hijinks involved.
#
I wish now that that was all it was. I think I'm the only one who knows. What am I going to do?
Morris came over a few days later. He was going to have dinner with us. It was crowded in the house, and Mom was showing Sarah how to make some of Matt's favorite dishes, since she would be cooking for him when they got to New York. I was trying to study in the living room when Simon and Morris came in; they were playing some sort of thumb wrestling game and were laughing and giggling a lot. I took my books up to my room, but Ruthie was there and she just sat and stared at me.
"What do you want?" I asked.
She smiled. "Nothing."
"So why are you staring?"
"To see how long it takes to make you uncomfortable."
"I have a test tomorrow. Stop it."
"Okay."
She kept staring.
"I thought you were going to stop."
"I don't know. Are you uncomfortable yet?"
I threw down my pen.
"Yes! I'm uncomfortable! Will you stop now?"
She smiled again.
"No."
I groaned, picked up my books and stormed out.
#
The kitchen was still Mom and Sarah, and Dad was writing his sermon in his office, and Simon and Morris were elbow wrestling or something in the living room. I paced through the house, groaned again, and headed out to the garage. I hated this ethics class anyway, but it was a requirement for the pre-seminary program, and I hadn't done too well on the last test in there. If people would just get along with each other, we wouldn't need any stupid ethics classes.
I climbed the stairs to the door of the apartment. It had used to squeak when it opened; this had bothered me a week or two ago, so I had oiled the hinges, and now it was as quiet as a church mouse. Gently I pushed it back.
It came open easily, and I stuck my head through, climbed in.
And I saw.
God, I wish I hadn't.
Matt was there. He saw me as I saw him. He went red and jumped away; I dropped my books, heard them fall to the floor of the garage below.
I wanted to cry out, say something, but I couldn't. His jaw dropped too, and he tried to hide himself, but there was still no drywall up so there was nowhere he could go.
"Matt?" I managed at last.
He was naked, or nearly naked. All he had on were a pair of my panties. I knew them immediately; they were my pink bikini satin ones, with the lace and little bows on the front.
But there was a lot more than lace and bows in the front of them now.
"Don't look at me!" he yelled.
But I couldn't not look. There he was, in his long hair, his broad chest, his lean legs.
And in my panties.
"What are you doing in my underwear?" I managed at last.
"Get out!" he screamed, and he lunged toward me.
I ran, the door to the apartment slamming behind me.
You should always be careful what you say, especially on the 7th Heaven boards at Television Without Pity (http://www.televisionwithoutpity.com/). You see, 7th Spud challenged the TWoP writers to write an account of Matt's wedding night, an idea I at first balked at, because quite frankly the idea of Matt and sex together is something I find pretty darn icky. But then Grace W. was kind enough to remind me that I am by my own admission a writer who likes a challenge, and that I tend to tackle projects I'm not sure I can carry off. Hence the following little tale, which deals with both Matt's wedding night and my strong impression that Matt Camden is hiding something sexual that he is terribly ashamed of, and which accounts, at least in part, for his years of rude and prudish behavior on the show. And since Grace W. nudged me into putting aside my other work to pen this story, it is to her that it is affectionately dedicated.
PART ONE
* * *
I don't know what to think anymore. It doesn't make sense. It isn't him, not like him, at all.
But I cannot deny what I saw.
No.
They're married now, the two of them, after the big wedding that wasn't supposed to be big, and Mary and Ruthie and I stood there as Maids of Honor, and Simon and Robbie as Groomsmen. Mom was in her best dress with Mrs. Glass in hers, and Dad and Rabbi Glass each performed the ceremony. There were hijinks, of course, because there always are. It's part of our family, part of being a Camden.
But not this. Not this image in my head that won't go away.
We sent them off, on to their wedding night, their honeymoon, and afterward Mom cried and Dad cried and Mary and I looked around and wondered when it would be us in the beautiful white gowns, when it would be our fingers that would wear the gemette wedding rings.
Ruthie told us we were idiots. She had this smirk on her face, like she knew something, but we couldn't chase her in our high heels and so we never managed to get her to tell us what it was. After the wedding we all drove home and parked and went in and changed out of our nice clothes.
It was quiet for a long time. We ate a light dinner and went to bed early. Mary had to be back at the JetBlue office the next day and I had classes to attend.
Maybe I should have suspected something earlier. Maybe I should have noticed that they were missing.
Because they were. I look back on it now and it all seems so clear. I had ten pairs, and now there were only seven.
Maybe they were in the wash.
#
Matt and Sarah returned from their honeymoon at Niagara Falls in New York, and we welcomed them into our house. It was crowded, and I wondered as I watched them kissing in the hall, in the bathroom, in the living room, why they didn't just move in with her parents where they would have a little more privacy. It was worse when Mary came to visit, because she would crowd up the room with Ruthie and me and I couldn't study with them there.
The only place it was quiet was the garage apartment.
It wasn't finished yet; there was still wiring and drywalling to be done and the tub and toilet had to be installed. Mom kept talking about it, about having it there for Matt and Sarah when they came back from school on holidays. And Mary would come back a lot too, since JetBlue was going to be flying into Glenoak International Airport soon and we wouldn't have to drive up to Sacramento to get her every time she came in.
For several weeks Matt and Sarah stayed with us. There were more hijinks. Simon's friend Morris was around a lot. He was cute, but he never seemed interested in looking at me.
I was in the living room watching TV when Sarah came and sat down.
"Hi, Lucy. Do you have a moment?"
I shut off the television. I had an assignment due soon on comparative theology and I wanted to ask her about being a Jew, so this was perfect. That's the way it always works in my family; the same things happen to all of us at the same time.
"Sure," I said.
She sat.
She blushed.
"What is it?" I asked. I knew I had to learn to talk to people, since someday I'm going to become a Minister.
"Is Matt all right?" she asked at last.
I shrugged. "What do you mean?"
She watched me for a moment. I watched her back. I think that's the way Dad does it.
"Lucy," she began. Her voice was serious. Instinctively I looked behind the couch for Ruthie.
"Lucy, I need to know if Matt is all right."
"Sure he is," I said.
Her eyes darted around; they did that a lot when she was in our house.
"Listen to me, Lucy. I need you to swear you won't tell anyone what I'm going to tell you, all right? Can I trust you?"
I looked again for Ruthie. I didn't see her, but that didn't matter. She was around somewhere. I know how things are in my home.
"Let's go for a drive," I suggested.
Sarah nodded.
#
In the car she relaxed a bit. I backed us out of the driveway and we drove to the park near our house, and I pulled up to the curb and stopped the car. I turned to her.
"What is it?" I asked.
She watched me warily.
"Can I trust you?" she asked. "You won't repeat any of this?"
"I swear," I told her. Swearing will be an important part of my job when I become a Minister.
She nodded then.
"All right," she said. "I'm worried about Matt."
"Why?"
"Before he met me, had he ever ...."
I watched her quizzically.
"Adult relations," she said finally. "Sex. Had he ever had sex before he met me?"
I laughed. I shouldn't have, but I couldn't help it.
"Matt? Sex?"
She blushed, looked uncomfortable.
"I'm sorry," I said.
She looked at me. Her face was drawn.
"Matt never even thought about having sex," I told her. "He spent all his time turning down girls. There was Cheryl, for example. He dumped her because she wanted sex. And he was always making sure that Mary and I never had a chance to have sex, either. Once he nearly beat up my boyfriend. He was the one who went up to Sasha's window to make sure Simon wasn't having sex."
Sarah looked scared.
"Did he ever .... talk to you about sex?"
I shook my head. "Well, there was that one time he videotaped it."
Her eyes went wide. "What?"
"Oh, not sex. No. I've never had sex. Never. I can't have sex before I'm married, you know. I'm going to be a Minister. No. He had a class project, and he wanted to videotape Mom and Dad talking to me and Mary about sex."
She went pale.
"I see."
That was all she said for a while. I thought about turning on the radio, maybe listening to some music. Then she lowered her brow into her hand, sighed heavily.
I should ask her what's wrong. That's what a Minister would do.
She turned to me.
"I'm worried about him," she said.
"Why?"
"He's ... strange, a little bit."
"What do you mean?" I asked.
"Swear you won't tell, Lucy. This is important to me."
I nodded. This was good Minister practice.
She looked out the window as she spoke.
"On our wedding night ... he was strange. He kept wanting to touch my ...."
I listened.
She shook her head, looked back at me. "I mean, on our wedding night. In the hotel, after the ceremony."
"What other wedding night is there?" I asked.
She still looked uncomfortable.
"I was wearing one of those white corsets, and stockings. The kind you see in the bridal magazines."
I nodded. I had looked at Matt's copy. I figured he didn't need it anymore.
"He didn't want me to take them off. When we .... And then ...."
I wished that I had asked Mom and Dad about white corsets and stockings when they were telling me about sex, because I wasn't sure what Sarah was talking about now. Of course, maybe they had said something and I had missed it; I'd have to check the tape.
Sarah had gone silent. She looked away again, rubbed her brow.
"I need to know, Lucy. Is there something wrong with Matt?"
I shook my head.
"Of course not. He's a great guy. You're lucky he found you."
She didn't look so sure. I figured it was something about being Jewish that Matt had gotten wrong. There were probably hijinks involved.
#
I wish now that that was all it was. I think I'm the only one who knows. What am I going to do?
Morris came over a few days later. He was going to have dinner with us. It was crowded in the house, and Mom was showing Sarah how to make some of Matt's favorite dishes, since she would be cooking for him when they got to New York. I was trying to study in the living room when Simon and Morris came in; they were playing some sort of thumb wrestling game and were laughing and giggling a lot. I took my books up to my room, but Ruthie was there and she just sat and stared at me.
"What do you want?" I asked.
She smiled. "Nothing."
"So why are you staring?"
"To see how long it takes to make you uncomfortable."
"I have a test tomorrow. Stop it."
"Okay."
She kept staring.
"I thought you were going to stop."
"I don't know. Are you uncomfortable yet?"
I threw down my pen.
"Yes! I'm uncomfortable! Will you stop now?"
She smiled again.
"No."
I groaned, picked up my books and stormed out.
#
The kitchen was still Mom and Sarah, and Dad was writing his sermon in his office, and Simon and Morris were elbow wrestling or something in the living room. I paced through the house, groaned again, and headed out to the garage. I hated this ethics class anyway, but it was a requirement for the pre-seminary program, and I hadn't done too well on the last test in there. If people would just get along with each other, we wouldn't need any stupid ethics classes.
I climbed the stairs to the door of the apartment. It had used to squeak when it opened; this had bothered me a week or two ago, so I had oiled the hinges, and now it was as quiet as a church mouse. Gently I pushed it back.
It came open easily, and I stuck my head through, climbed in.
And I saw.
God, I wish I hadn't.
Matt was there. He saw me as I saw him. He went red and jumped away; I dropped my books, heard them fall to the floor of the garage below.
I wanted to cry out, say something, but I couldn't. His jaw dropped too, and he tried to hide himself, but there was still no drywall up so there was nowhere he could go.
"Matt?" I managed at last.
He was naked, or nearly naked. All he had on were a pair of my panties. I knew them immediately; they were my pink bikini satin ones, with the lace and little bows on the front.
But there was a lot more than lace and bows in the front of them now.
"Don't look at me!" he yelled.
But I couldn't not look. There he was, in his long hair, his broad chest, his lean legs.
And in my panties.
"What are you doing in my underwear?" I managed at last.
"Get out!" he screamed, and he lunged toward me.
I ran, the door to the apartment slamming behind me.
