The story that follows is an interpretation of the character of Lucy Camden, whose behavior in recent seasons has been baffling to me. In the episode "I love Lucy", Lucy and Roxanne share a short dance that I thought was very romantic, and I wanted to see if this could be expanded upon in an interesting and dramatic way that explained Lucy's recent behavior on the show. As always, the characters here are not mine; they are the property of the WB and other Hollywood big shots. The story itself, however, is (c) 2003 by Hans the bold. All Biblical quotes have been checked against the Masoretic Hebrew text of the Biblia Hebraica Stuttgartensia. For those who don't know Hebrew, translations for all Hebrew words and passages exist in the text of the story and should be easy to recognize.
Dedications are too numerous to list here, but include the posters on the 7th Heaven boards at Television Without Pity, whose friendship is really the ultimate inspiration for my fanfiction, and those authors here at fanfiction.net who share their visions of the Camdens with us, bringing them to life in so many fine and interesting ways.
A final note: This story discusses sexuality, and might well qualify as slash. It also contains theological speculation that some may not agree with. If such things are likely to bother you, I'd turn back now.
ONE: 1:27
* * *
Most people think it started with the dance. That isn't true.
It's hard to say when it did start, actually. I don't think anyone actually can. You don't remember when you first started to notice people that way, when they stop being just people and start being men and women.
Male and female.
"Male and female he created them."
That's what it says, there in Genesis. Male and female. Created at once, with one word from God.
Male and female.
What does that mean?
I think about that a lot. When I'm lying in bed, my husband beside me, I think about it. I think about his maleness, about what that means, about how I wanted it for so long, about how I was so afraid he would never ask me to be his wife.
People thought I was insane about that. A jealous, nasty harpy. I know. I heard them.
But they don't understand, those people. They don't understand what it was like to be me, in those days.
Except for her. I think she did.
But it didn't start with the dance.
#
In all my life there has never been anything more important to me than God. This was probably because of my family, my father a Minister, my mother committing herself to the household, trying to be a perfect rendition of Proverbs 31. I was raised singing gospel, praying at each meal and every Sunday, turning myself over to God. I was raised to think of others before myself, always, as Christ did. These weren't conscious things, after a while. They just became a part of me.
I think sometimes that they are more a part of me more than any of the others, more than Matt or Mary or Simon, more than Ruthie or the twins. Sometimes it's like I can almost hear God, like I can feel his presence close by, watching me.
I love that feeling. I want to share it.
Male and female he created them.
Female he created me. He. Created. Me.
Eheyeh asher eheyeh.
It's said that all things exist on a spectrum. We all fall somewhere; who we are, what we are. Things are never simple. I try to remember that, as I prepare to be a Minister. I try to remember that not everything is clear-cut, that not everything is black and white. I try to remember who I am, what I am, when I listen to others.
Maybe this will make me a better Minister.
Maybe it makes me a hypocrite.
Because I don't preach that. There are rules to my faith, rules I must follow if I am to be permitted to speak about God, and the first among these is that the Bible is an absolute. God is an absolute. There is absolute right and there is absolute wrong, and the Bible tells us what these are. Everything is black and white, and what I am is sin.
Sin.
Male and female he created them.
Created me.
Who am I to question God with what I do, with what I feel?
Most people think it started with the dance, but that isn't true.
It started when God created me female.
#
We learned young, my brothers and sisters and I, that girls were different than boys. Boys were to work, to earn their way, to establish themselves. They were the trustworthy ones, the ones descended not from the Eve who had brought on the fall but from Adam, who she had brought down. They bore no taint of original sin but only the taint of vulnerability to the woman. And so they were raised to be strong, to know the dangers of the female and to avoid and control it. Thus it was with Matt, with Simon.
For Mary and I, and even Ruthie now, the taint was very real. We brought danger into our household, danger that must be watched, controlled, held in with rules. Though it was never said, the message was always there: We were unclean.
Female.
He created us.
I was, you know, "boy crazy". I loved boys, thought about boys, talked about boys, dated boys, kissed boys. Once my friend Keisha and I were in a theater with boys, and we were kissing the boys and were discovered doing so. I was punished. Once I and other friends went to the mall and tarted ourselves up in short skirts and makeup and flirted with a security guard, and were discovered. I was punished. Once I was going to offer myself for sex with my older boyfriend, and was discovered, and yes, I was punished.
Boy crazy. She can't be trusted.
She burns with lust for them.
Danger.
#
They never knew.
Not even Ruthie, who prided herself on knowing everything, ever even suspected. In all her excursions through my dresser drawers, through my closet, through my bed and under my mattress and even my journal, she never, ever, came close to the truth. She in fact was my greatest defense against discovery, and it was for her that I left all the clues, the magazines and pictures and writings. I love boys, I want boys. Isn't he a hunk? Isn't he cute?
She found my clues and she swallowed them up and of course she told all, and all of the rest of them believed her.
Lucy is just boy crazy.
What she did not find was the truth. Could she follow my eyes as I looked at Sheila and not at Mark? Could she know that I wanted to be a cheerleader not to cheer the football team but to be with those who did? Despite what she may think, my little sister could never read my mind, and neither could the others.
Neither could I, for many of those years.
Dedications are too numerous to list here, but include the posters on the 7th Heaven boards at Television Without Pity, whose friendship is really the ultimate inspiration for my fanfiction, and those authors here at fanfiction.net who share their visions of the Camdens with us, bringing them to life in so many fine and interesting ways.
A final note: This story discusses sexuality, and might well qualify as slash. It also contains theological speculation that some may not agree with. If such things are likely to bother you, I'd turn back now.
ONE: 1:27
* * *
Most people think it started with the dance. That isn't true.
It's hard to say when it did start, actually. I don't think anyone actually can. You don't remember when you first started to notice people that way, when they stop being just people and start being men and women.
Male and female.
"Male and female he created them."
That's what it says, there in Genesis. Male and female. Created at once, with one word from God.
Male and female.
What does that mean?
I think about that a lot. When I'm lying in bed, my husband beside me, I think about it. I think about his maleness, about what that means, about how I wanted it for so long, about how I was so afraid he would never ask me to be his wife.
People thought I was insane about that. A jealous, nasty harpy. I know. I heard them.
But they don't understand, those people. They don't understand what it was like to be me, in those days.
Except for her. I think she did.
But it didn't start with the dance.
#
In all my life there has never been anything more important to me than God. This was probably because of my family, my father a Minister, my mother committing herself to the household, trying to be a perfect rendition of Proverbs 31. I was raised singing gospel, praying at each meal and every Sunday, turning myself over to God. I was raised to think of others before myself, always, as Christ did. These weren't conscious things, after a while. They just became a part of me.
I think sometimes that they are more a part of me more than any of the others, more than Matt or Mary or Simon, more than Ruthie or the twins. Sometimes it's like I can almost hear God, like I can feel his presence close by, watching me.
I love that feeling. I want to share it.
Male and female he created them.
Female he created me. He. Created. Me.
Eheyeh asher eheyeh.
It's said that all things exist on a spectrum. We all fall somewhere; who we are, what we are. Things are never simple. I try to remember that, as I prepare to be a Minister. I try to remember that not everything is clear-cut, that not everything is black and white. I try to remember who I am, what I am, when I listen to others.
Maybe this will make me a better Minister.
Maybe it makes me a hypocrite.
Because I don't preach that. There are rules to my faith, rules I must follow if I am to be permitted to speak about God, and the first among these is that the Bible is an absolute. God is an absolute. There is absolute right and there is absolute wrong, and the Bible tells us what these are. Everything is black and white, and what I am is sin.
Sin.
Male and female he created them.
Created me.
Who am I to question God with what I do, with what I feel?
Most people think it started with the dance, but that isn't true.
It started when God created me female.
#
We learned young, my brothers and sisters and I, that girls were different than boys. Boys were to work, to earn their way, to establish themselves. They were the trustworthy ones, the ones descended not from the Eve who had brought on the fall but from Adam, who she had brought down. They bore no taint of original sin but only the taint of vulnerability to the woman. And so they were raised to be strong, to know the dangers of the female and to avoid and control it. Thus it was with Matt, with Simon.
For Mary and I, and even Ruthie now, the taint was very real. We brought danger into our household, danger that must be watched, controlled, held in with rules. Though it was never said, the message was always there: We were unclean.
Female.
He created us.
I was, you know, "boy crazy". I loved boys, thought about boys, talked about boys, dated boys, kissed boys. Once my friend Keisha and I were in a theater with boys, and we were kissing the boys and were discovered doing so. I was punished. Once I and other friends went to the mall and tarted ourselves up in short skirts and makeup and flirted with a security guard, and were discovered. I was punished. Once I was going to offer myself for sex with my older boyfriend, and was discovered, and yes, I was punished.
Boy crazy. She can't be trusted.
She burns with lust for them.
Danger.
#
They never knew.
Not even Ruthie, who prided herself on knowing everything, ever even suspected. In all her excursions through my dresser drawers, through my closet, through my bed and under my mattress and even my journal, she never, ever, came close to the truth. She in fact was my greatest defense against discovery, and it was for her that I left all the clues, the magazines and pictures and writings. I love boys, I want boys. Isn't he a hunk? Isn't he cute?
She found my clues and she swallowed them up and of course she told all, and all of the rest of them believed her.
Lucy is just boy crazy.
What she did not find was the truth. Could she follow my eyes as I looked at Sheila and not at Mark? Could she know that I wanted to be a cheerleader not to cheer the football team but to be with those who did? Despite what she may think, my little sister could never read my mind, and neither could the others.
Neither could I, for many of those years.