I’d play laser tag every single day if I could. We go again on Saturday, and Matt invites me to stay over, but if I stay over, we’ll have to go to church in the morning. Matt makes a face at the thought and I don’t want to put him through that again. Lord knows I don’t want to go through it myself.
We sit in the car in the Laser X parking lot holding hands and thinking about the problem. We can go hang out at my house until Matt’s curfew, and we will, but at that point we can’t kiss or touch or snuggle anymore.
“Their rule is you have to go to church, but do you have to go to their church?” Matt asks.
“What do you mean?”
“Sometime I could bring you to the church my mom went to.”
“Your mom went to church?” It shouldn’t be that surprising. Most people around here go to church to some extent.
“Yeah. She was in the choir.”
“Cool.” I’ve never thought about the possibility of another church. I don’t know how that would fly with my parents. Absolutely no idea.
“I stopped going, but not because I’m gay,” he says. “Our church was fine with that.”
“Why, then?”
“Because all institutions are about power. And God is supposed to be about something else.” He scratches the length of my index finger with his nail. Lightly, like a shiver.
“What?” I ask, suddenly breathless.
He leans toward me. “Some people call it love,” he says. “But even that’s too simple.”