Date: Sun, 19 May 2013 12:21:04 -0700 (PDT) From: August Zellner Subject: Julian - Day 7A JULIAN Day 7 Part A The next morning was Friday, my last full day at the timeshare in Fresh Links, Indiana. I awoke to see Julian climbing on my bed again, this time wearing his old blue running shorts. His body and face paint were more faded than yesterday but still quite visible, and the ankle and wrist bracelets jingled as he arranged himself on the bed. "Hey jerk-off, it's time to get up," he said. I figured I had earned that nickname fair and square the night before. "So what time is it?" I asked, still a little groggy (partly from the pot). "Almost 8:30," he said. "Holy shit, Julian, you really let me sleep in!" "Oh I just got up a little while ago," he said. "I guess I gotta go home to the forest today," he said, "cuz yer goin' off to do yer shit again and I don't wanna do that." "Well actually, that's not what I'm doing today," I said. "Today is the one day I set aside to go sight-seeing and be a tourist in Indiana. Even my wife knows that – oh shit! My wife – I gotta call my wife! If it's already 8:30, she's already at work!" So I got up and grabbed a pair of shorts to put on, and went downstairs and found my phone still on the end table. I turned it on and sure enough, there was a message from my wife, she was worried because I hadn't called her yet and when she tried calling me it went straight to voicemail. So I called her back at the office, she was at her desk and answered, and I reassured her that I was fine, I just slept in this morning and had turned the phone off to put it on the charger (well, that last part was a lie but the rest of it was true). By the time I was off the phone Julian was downstairs searching the kitchen something, anything to eat – and actually there was a little box of left-over beef burgundy and broccoli from my dinner last night at Diamond Jim's Ristorante. He warmed it up a little in the microwave and quickly dispatched it. It wasn't much, but it would hold him over until I could drive him thru McDonald's. "Hey this is pretty good stuff," he allowed. "Yeah, I know," I said, but I didn't bother saying maybe you should expand your culinary horizons some if you're going to be hanging out in the head chef's kitchen. "I need to take a shower," I said. "And I can't wash until tomorrow morning," he observed. "Well, ya know you're welcome to come over tomorrow and use the shower here." "No, I can't do that cuz I hafta use the river water to wash the paint off – it's a rule." "So if yer gonna be a tourist today, where are ya goin'?" Julian said. "Is there another cave around here or sumpthin'?" "No, no caves," I said, "Actually there's two places I'm gonna go. I wanna go see the Amish country over there by Montpelier, and I even picked up a brochure about that this week. Then I wanna go see Abraham Lincoln's boyhood home, which is also pretty close to here ..." and then I decided to ask "... Umm, do you know who Abraham Lincoln is?" "Yeah, yeah, Abraham Lincoln, president of America, freed the slaves ... I do go to school, ya know, at least sometimes." "Well from what Lupita said, it sounds like you're gonna be going to school pretty regular from now on," I said. "So anyway, he was born in Kentucky, but his family moved here to Indiana when he was about seven, and he lived here until he grew up. I mean, that explains why you have a town named after him right nearby. And back in those days this was totally wild country, and he grew up in a cabin in the forest, kind of like you're going to. Hey, if you come with me today ya might even learn something!" Well, the idea of an educational trip with an old gringo pervert may not have been the most appealing offer Julian had ever heard, but he had to compare it to the alternative – which was getting dropped off at the forest this morning and spending the day starting to clear out the ceremonial clearing of his new village with the other clan elders and building a ceremonial hut, and building his own hut, and generally making ready for the rest of his clan to arrive over the next few weeks. In other words, a whole lot of work – the first of many days of work that he had to look forward to that summer as he began his new life in the forest. And even though it was good, productive work for himself and his family as opposed to the back-breaking migrant farm labor he had spent his young life doing, still, if he could avoid one day of that work by going on an educational trip ... well, he was okay with that. So I went upstairs and took a shower, and when I came back down he had put all his stuff into a plastic trash bag he'd found in the laundry closet. "So after we're done today we don't hafta come back here, you can just leave me at the forest road." So by about 9:45 we were driving thru McDonald's again, and from there it is about an hour's drive to Montpelier, which bills itself as "the gateway to David County's Amish Country." As you drive north on the main road out of town (one of the things that qualifies this as the "main road" is that it's paved) the first thing you come to is the Gatshaf Amish Village, which is not an Amish village at all but a tourist trap. In fact, it looked to me like (a very scaled down version of) Kitchen Kettle Village in Intercourse, PA – in other words, just total schlock. It has an "Amish" buffet restaurant (not yet open at 11:00 am on a Friday morning), and an "Amish" bakery, and a "country store" (which was open) that's just like every other country store your wife ever dragged you into while on vacation, which is to say it's full of "quaint" useless junk. However, it turns out that unlike Intercourse, PA and the Pennsylvania Dutch Country in general which has been totally destroyed by tourism, aside from Gatshaf Village the David County Amish Country is the real thing and there were almost no tourists at all, at least on the day we were there. I would say that if you were Amish – and BTW if you are the kind of person reading this story I can only assume you are NOT Amish – but if you were, then you would want to be as far away from tourists as possible in which case the David County Amish Country would be just right for you. We drove north from Gatshaf Village keeping mostly but not always on the main road, and it was a very authentic and interesting place. Most of the farms were Amish (no electricity and no cars in the driveway), there were many horses & buggies on the roads, farmers were plowing their fields with horse teams, and almost every church and business in the area was aimed strictly at the Amish community. We stopped at a few places along the way. One was a grocery store, which was not strictly Amish and had electricity etc. etc. but about 1/3 of the store was devoted to products geared to Amish customers, like big sacks of locally-produced flour and corn and even bolts of cloth and hats – so in that way it was like going into a grocery in Jersey City and finding a big Puerto Rican & Cuban section (which I have done). But the place that made me feel most like a total outsider was actually the local farmers market. It wasn't on the map in the brochure, but when we came upon it at first I thought, oh this might be kind of fun. But this was nothing like any cutsie little farmers market you may have been to – no, this was really the place where all the local Amish farmers were bringing their farm products to market, selling them to real wholesale customers. There was a covered dock-high platform and inside were stacks and stacks of boxes filled with every imaginable kind of produce. We pulled into the (gravel) parking lot and there were some cars and trucks there, but also many horses & buggies. We sat in my car and looked up at the platform, where a lot of business was being transacted and all the men were in overalls and hats and had beards and all the women were in long black dresses and bonnets. "Holy shit, Julian, I can't even get up the nerve to go up there and look around," I said, "I'd feel like a total outsider – like a space alien or something." "Yeah? Well what about me?" he said. Because really, we were not just any tourists. I was so totally obvious, dressed as I was in shorts, a Kennedy Space Center T-shirt and white Nike walking shoes and no hat at all on a blazing-hot summer day. And my touring companion was a young brown forest boy in body and face paint and ankle and wrist bracelets, dressed only in blue running shorts (although we did have a shirt and shoes available for places that required it). We looked at the scene for a few minutes, but didn't even get out of the car. And yet – everywhere that we did stop and get out of the car, the Amish people immediately recognized that Julian was a local forest boy and accorded him all the respect he was due but never made him feel out of place. Because if you think about it for a minute you will realize that everybody there knows all about the Hoover Forest People. This is the very Amish community that has been offering its assistance to the Forest People for over a decade now, working with the Miami Nation of Indiana Inc. to help them live according to their customs in their new home, and sponsoring their little one-room school in the forest through the David County Amish Educational Cooperative. And although it's not very common for any of the forest people to have to go to the David County Amish Country, still it's not unheard of. In fact, the biggest question on the minds of any of the Amish we met that day was probably – hey forest boy, who the fuck is this old tourist you're hangin' around with anyways? About 15 miles north of Montpelier is the small town of Nodo, a place made prosperous by the influx of Amish population. We had lunch at the Hessen Haus, which is a small "family style buffet" which means (a) the dining room has only a few large tables that seat 12 or more, and you sit with everybody else and eat "family style," and (b) the "buffet" consists of whatever the proprietor decides to cook that day, but you can have as much as you want. Today was pan-fried chicken, mashed potatoes & gravy and your choice of three vegetables. Get used to it. Actually it was pretty good and Julian was pretty hungry. He had to put a shirt and shoes on to go in. Most of the customers were non-Amish, but at one of the big tables they really were Amish. And that's always a good sign, right? Like when you go into a Vietnamese restaurant and there's Vietnamese people there, you feel like it must be a good place. And – of course – because the proprietor recognized Julian as a local forest boy, that's the table he brought us to. It was a little weird if you ask me. The people was talking in German but right away they switched over to English, out of deference to the arrival of non-German speakers. For a while the men were talking about crop prices and weather forecasts, and the women were discussing canning techniques. But soon enough they turned to introduce themselves, especially to Julian, and ask how things were going in the forest village. "Um, okay, I guess," he said, "I just got there a couple days ago." "Oh – then you must belong to the new clan," said one of the men. "Well, um, yeah," Julian said. We looked at each other, both surprised these guys already knew about all this. But why not, right? It's probably this week's big news all over David County's Amish Country. "Have you started work on the ceremonial hut?" the man asked. "Um, not yet, prob'ly tomorrow," Julian said. "Well," the man continued, "I know you'll be using trees from the forest, but my shop supplies all the rope for the lashings." Of course! This is big news because it means new business for these guys. They've probably already worked out the contracts with the Miami Nation for all this stuff. "And my cousin's mill built all the interior furnishings and the alter for the last village clearing," said another man. "All custom work!" he declared, to the nods and approval of all. "I think we still have the specs for all that in his office ... do you think your chief will be available tomorrow for a consult?" "I guess," said Julian, "But I bet he'll want to build all that himself – he did home construction and custom kitchen installations in North Carolina. Well, until the recession." Hearing those words come out of Julian's mouth I was pretty dumbfounded – I mean, because I'd never heard him ever discuss home construction or the recession before, and because it had never occurred to me that a clan chief would be a construction worker. I looked quizzically at Julian and he just said, "It's, like, all he ever wants to talk about," rolling his eyes. But the millwork guy didn't even miss a beat. "Oh, in that case he is welcome to come to our mill and we will put all of our equipment at his disposal. Frederick, don't you have one of Joseph's business cards?" Of course he did! Frederick handed Julian a business card. "We have only the highest quality lumber and materials," he said, "I'm sure your chief will be completely satisfied." Okay, so that's how lunch went. And just as we were preparing to leave, one of the women spoke up and said, "Julian, have you picked up your school books yet?" "Oh Patricia!" said Frederick, "Let the boy have his summer! And after all, he will have so much to do helping build his village!" "Even so," she said, "as long as he's here in town he should go to the Red Barn and let Johann show him what he will need." To resolve Patricia's maternal concerns over Julian's education I said, "You mean the Red Barn General Store, right? I saw that on our way up from Montpelier but we didn't stop, but we'll be going right by again on the way back, so I'll take him in and see what they've got." That satisfied Patricia, so we were on our way. Soon Julian was stripped back down to just his blue running shorts, sitting sideways in the passenger seat with his legs spread apart so I could ogle at him for this one last day we had together. I was curious about the whole clan chief story, so I said, "So your clan chief is in construction, huh? I'll bet they'll really be able to use him for the resort maintenance crew, right?" "Oh Jesus Christ! You should'a heard him all morning yesterday while we were clearing out the forest!" said Julian, "He's had a lot of trouble finding work, ya know? On account of the recession? But now, they got a opening for a crew chief!" I laughed to myself for just a moment, thinking about the clan chief being a maintenance chief. But it makes sense, right? If the guy has leadership skills, let's put them to use. "An' he says that one time he, like, had a vision where Jesus and the Angels were helping him build the ceremonial alter for our clan. And then after that he just cried all day cuz he thought the evil spirits brought that vision to punish him for not being able to save our village in the Juva Forest, and not keeping our clan together after that. And now he knows the spirits were really showing him the future, and that whole time in North Carolina Jesus and the angels were teaching him everything to build our village here. And he's, like, TOTALLY stoked about building the new alter." *** Apocryphal-sidetrack-you-may-want-to-skip #1: Consider for a moment how Julian's clan chief feels right now. It has been well over a decade since his village in the Juva Forest was destroyed, and his clan tossed like trash into the diaspora of America's shit-holes. He has spent most of that time believing he was a complete failure, in tears because he thought evil spirits were punishing him by sending visions of what could never be. Now suddenly everything is clear to him – all that time while he was building homes and installing custom cabinetry in North Carolina, Jesus and the angels were actually teaching him the very skills he would need to build and furnish the new ceremonial hut and alter for his people. No wonder it's, like, all he ever wants to talk about! To say he's, like, TOTALLY stoked about building the new alter hardly begins to scratch the surface. He will pour his heart and soul into that altar, and dedicate the rest of his life to teaching his people (including Julian, of course) all the traditions of the Hoover Forest People. Over the years the clan will make any number of accommodations to 21st Century America, like installing a solar charging station in the ceremonial clearing for everybody's smart phones, iPods, tablets, phablets, laptops & other gadgets, and like building a communal parking lot just off the nearest County road – because after all Julian's clan is a lot more acclimated to American culture than Lupita's clan, having spent over a decade in the diaspora. But that alter will become a treasured relic of his clan used by every chief for generations to come, including Julian, who has no idea right now that the principle qualification for becoming clan chief is seniority as an elder, seniority that is definitely coming to him since he has become an elder at such an early age. *** I suppose so ... but by this time we were coming up on the Red Barn General Store. Julian didn't put any clothes on to go in, and I didn't say anything about that. It was a hot sunny day, so a young boy in shorts was appropriately dressed anyway. The reason I had not stopped at the Red Barn on the way up was because I'd figured, oh sure – just what we need – another `country store' full of useless junk! But as soon as we walked in it was obvious that was not at all what this store was about. It was a real Amish country store, stocked from floor to ceiling with only things that real Amish customers might need. On the ground floor were leather goods, hardware and tools, overalls, and hats, so I guess you could call it the men's department. Also, big sacks of dry goods of every description. And a rack full of guns. There was of course no electricity and therefore no lighting or air conditioning, but the place was so perfectly constructed and ventilated that even though the temperature outside that day was in the 90's, inside it was perfectly comfortable. The open windows brought in a nice breeze and provided all the light you needed to see everything. These guys really know what they're doing. The proprietor, who of course was an Amish man with a full beard – gave us a friendly greeting and immediately recognized Julian as a forest boy. "Oh! You must be Julian!" he said, "How may I help you today?" I had been looking around the store, but when he came right out with Julian's name like that I turned to look at the man, and for some reason he looked familiar ... "I understand you carry school books here," I said. "Oh yes!" he said quite proudly, "Upstairs," and he pointed up the stairs. Julian, who was closest, started up the stairs, and each time one of his bare feet came down on a step his ankle bracelets jingled a little – it was really a wonderful thing to watch, even from behind. The proprietor followed, watching him all the way, and I brought up the rear. When we got to the second floor we were in the sewing, fabric and children's clothing area, so I guess you could call that the women's department. And sure enough, there was a rather stern-looking woman in a long black dress and bonnet looking through the fabrics, and she had a young boy with her, maybe five years old, dressed of course in overalls. And that boy stared directly at Julian – well actually at both of us – with a look on his face like he thought we must be space aliens. Which in his world, I guess we were. But the woman hardly acknowledged us and kept to her business. The proprietor led us to the far side of the floor, where there were all manner of school supplies and school books. There were also Sunday School supplies and bibles, in English and German. As the man began to look over the school books, that's when I figured out who he was. He was the Amish guy I had seen at the forest village clearing, the man who tipped his hat to me as he walked past on his way to his buggy. "Are you Johann Shutte?" I asked. "Yes," he said, a little surprised. "Oh, well the folks at the restaurant in Nodo gave us your name and said you'd have whatever Julian needed," I said. "I certainly do," he said, kneeling down on the floor with one knee between Julian and the bookshelves to take a closer look, "I provide all the school supplies for the David County Amish Educational Cooperative." Of course he does! At first he looked back and forth on the shelves, but then he turned toward Julian – who at this point actually was standing quite close to him – and said, "So young man, what is your grade level?" "Ummmm, 7th grade ..." said Julian, but I could see he was a little uncomfortable saying that. Taking two books from the shelf and turning back so he was facing Julian again with his head right about in front of Julian's belly button (which I must say is a very pretty little insy) he handed one book to Julian and the other to me and said, "Well, here is a reader I think will suit you ... and a copy for you to look over too, sir." I thumbed through the book for a moment. It was a reader about the adventures of two children, Henry and Maria. They were 19th Century frontier children, apparently. Looking back and forth between the book, and Julian, and the bookshelf, I could see that this was part of a series of Henry and Maria books, one for each grade level, conceived so that whatever grade level you were in, these kids would be right about your age. I thought, hey that's pretty clever, right? And because these are 19th Century frontier children, the kind of places and technologies they would encounter would be, if you will, "Amish-friendly" (no electricity, no cars, no TV or internet, etc. etc.) – and I also remember thinking to myself, I'll bet any Native Americans these kids meet in their adventures are going to be portrayed very favorably, so it's perfect for the kids at the forest village too, right? But all these thoughts went through my mind in just about a 20-second span of time, while I was looking back and forth between the book, and Julian looking at the book, and the bookshelves, and Johann ... and then I noticed Johann ... he was kneeling on the floor facing Julian, with his face just inches away from Julian's golden brown body-painted torso and pretty little belly button. And that's when I saw it. He closed his eyes about half-way, and breeeeeaathed in deeply – as though he was drinking in as much of that intoxicating two-day-old forest boy odor as he could. He did that twice, just in that short time when we were preoccupied with the books – but I saw it and I thought, oh holy shit, this guy's got it ssssooooo bad he can hardly see straight. And then when he opened his eyes again and looked up that handsome young body to where the book was blocking his view of Julian's face, it seemed to me like that guy's head was spinning with lust, like he just couldn't wait to start sucking a native boy's hard cock, a cock now just inches from his drooling mouth ... And then it was all over. Julian slammed his book closed and said, "I don't like this book!" He seemed pretty upset, and almost right away I thought I knew why. Johann seemed confused and concerned. I said, "Mr. Shutte, could you please give us a few minutes to ourselves?" "Oh yes, of course," he said, and got up to go serve the woman and child on the far side of the floor. "What's the matter?" I asked, just to get the conversation going. "It's a stupid book," he said, handing it to me. "I ain't gonna read it!" "Hmmmm ..." I said, "It's just a book, ya know ... so that can't be it." Then I spoke more softly. "So what's really the matter?" I thought I knew, but I also thought it would be better if I could get him to say it. "Ya know, you can tell me whatever it is and I'm not gonna judge you – and besides, after today when I drop ya off, you'll never even see me again and so nothing you say right now will matter ever again, right? So tell me what's up, and I can help you with it, and nobody will ever know, okay?" "I don't wanna say it – you say it," he said. Well I'd heard that one before, but this time I wasn't gonna let him off that easy. "No, you say it. Look, there's nobody else here, so it's just like you're only sayin' it to yourself. Say it ..." "This book is too hard," he said, "I can't read it." "That's what I thought," I said. "Yeah well, this is totally fucked up. I suck at school, I can't read, and everybody's gonna laugh at me. I wanna go back home to Georgia." Well, I thought, it's way too late for that. Even now, Julian's whole extended family is probably on their way here and there's no home left in Georgia to go to. "Now just hang on a minute," I said softly, "and let's just think about it, cuz I think everything's gonna work out fine. So, up until now, I'll bet you've been goin' to one fucked up shitty school after another, where the teachers are all assholes that can't wait to get rid of you, right?" "Yeah." "Well I know you haven't thought about this yet, but from now on, it's a whole new story. Cuz for one thing, yer not gonna be switchin' schools all the time. Yer gonna have one school – a good school – with a good teacher that ackshully gives a shit about you. And since all the grade levels are in the same classroom, nobody even gives a shit what grade you start at. Fuck 7th grade!" At this point I took the two 7th grade books and put them back on the shelf. "Nobody cares, right? So let's just find one of these books you can go with for now, and once you start school in the fall you just go at your own speed." I took out another Henry and Maria book, but this time for 3rd grade. "Okay, let's see how you do with this one." I opened it up some random page, pointed to a sentence and said, "Try this." He started. It was halting, but he read: "H-Henry ... walked ... down ... the ... f-forest ... path." "Perfect," I said, snatching the book back so I could rip off the little label on the corner of the cover where it said 3rd grade. "See? You can do this, and go at your own speed, and this time the teacher will ackshully help you for a change. Oh – and here's something else to think about. The rest of your clan is coming, right?" "Yeah." "So, like, what'da'ya think all those kids're gonna be like anyway? Are they gonna be geniuses or something? Fuck no! – they've all gone to one fucked up shitty school after another, where the teachers are all assholes that can't wait to get rid of them, just like you right?" The repetition from a few paragraphs ago got Julian's attention. "So, like, I guaran'fuckin'tee you the teacher they're gonna have at the forest school is gonna be an expert at working with kids that have gone to shitty-ass schools, and he's gonna be able to speak Spanish too. So really, I think everything's gonna be all right." I think that worked, because Julian looked somewhat relieved. *** Apocryphal-sidetrack-you-may-want-to-skip #2: So how can I be so sure the forest school is gonna have a great teacher like that? Because as happy as the Amish are to help out the Forest People, do you think that stern-looking woman in the fabric department of the Red Barn General Store is going to stand for anything that might possibly affect the David County Amish Educational Cooperative's AAA rating with the State of Indiana? How about all those nice folks we met at the Hessian House? Fuck no! The minute anything at the forest school starts to drag down that AAA rating, all those good folks will march down to the next Cooperative Board meeting and heads will roll!! Every board member knows this, and that is why they will do anything in their power to ensure the success of the forest school – especially when you consider that all the money needed to hire and supply a top-notch bilingual remedial education teacher is coming straight out of the profits from the Fresh Links Casino! So go ahead, folks – gamble away all your savings – because your loss is Julian's gain. Ten years from now he'll probably be the first college-educated clan elder in the history of the Hoover Forest People, well on his way to a degree in hotel and resort management. *** "Oh – one more thing," I said. "Of all the kids in that whole forest school, how many clan elders do ya think are gonna be there?" Well, Julian knew what I was saying, but I drove the point home anyway. "Right – ONE. You're gonna `rule the school,' Julian. You're gonna do just fine." Well that cheered Julian up, so we collected our things and headed back toward the stairs. Johann was over there right at the top of the steps, fetching something for the stern-looking woman, so as we passed by him I just flashed the book at him quickly and said, "Okay, so we'll take this book – how much is it?" "Oh don't worry about it," he said, "I'll just invoice the Cooperative." Right – of course. And as Julian started down the stairs, and as his ankle bracelets jingled each time one of his pretty little bare feet came down a step, I saw Johann gazing down watching the show. I stepped aside for just a couple of seconds to let him do that, and thought to myself, `Go ahead, pervert, take one last look. That little whiff you got over there by the bookshelves is probably to closest you'll ever get to a nearly-naked forest boy ... whereas I've just spent a whole week with him, and last night I held him in my arms, and jerked him off and fucked him, and ate his cum off my slimy fingers. So have one more look, dude, cuz right now, it pretty much sucks to be you." And then I followed Julian down the stairs and we were on our way. So anyway, it's over an hour's drive from Montpelier to the Lincoln Boyhood Home National Park, and that gave us some more time to talk. "What was up with that guy at the store?" said Julian. I had to laugh, I couldn't help it. "I mean, he kept starin' at me and shit ..." he continued. "Oh come on, Julian!" I said, "You know what's up with him, or you wouldn't even be bringin' it up!" "So, like, he's another perv?" he said. "Yeah ..." I said. But after just letting that hang in the air for a minute, I began to wax philosophical. "But ya know, in his world – I mean, because he's Amish – the social rules are so strict about that kind of thing that he can never admit he's got a problem – even to himself – he can never even think it! Because a man being a pervert in his world is against everything he ever believed in, against everything he even knows about. If he ever admitted to himself even for a second that he's attracted to boys, his whole life would be over – everything would crumble to dust, and he'd have to go take one of those guns you saw in that store, and just go out back and shoot himself." "Holy shit!" "Yeah, so if you ever hear that he went out the back of his store and offed himself, you'll know why. But in the meantime, ya never have to worry about him cuz he's totally harmless. And if ya think about it, what that guy has done is, subconsciously, he's taken his attraction for boys and channeled it into something positive – he runs a store that sells school supplies, right? He's got the contract with the Educational Cooperative for all the school supplies for the whole school system, and all the time he's convincing himself it's because he wants to `help the kids.' In fact, he's attracted to the kids and now he's found this way of being around kids a lot. But he doesn't even realize that's what he's doing." Julian laughed with me. "But hey," I said, "Hey – cut the guy some slack, okay? Whatever ya do, don't ever `out' him – cuz, he really is doing something positive for the Educational Cooperative, and he's totally harmless the way he is, so don't you be the one to destroy his world, okay?" Julian nodded his head. A couple of minutes passed, and then Julian said, "Well what about you?" "What'da'ya mean?" I said, but knew what he meant. "You're a pervert, ya like boys, and ya even admit it," he said. "Ha!" I said, "I never admit it to anybody! You're the only person I've ever admitted it to, besides myself! When I go home tomorrow, and go back to my world, and my job, and my wife, it'll be just like none of this ever even happened – like I made it all up in my head – like a fantasy or something." A couple more minutes passed, and I was thinking about everything and comparing myself to Johann, so I started talking again. "Ya know, in a way I think I'm actually worse off than that guy too." "What'da'ya mean?" said Julian. "Cuz, technically, in my world I'm `free' – I'm `free' to admit to myself that I'm attracted to boys – hell, I've known about it my whole fuckin' life, almost since I was your age, although I didn't actually admit it to myself until I was in my mid-20's. I'm not really gay, cuz when it comes to adults I only like women. But there's also always been this `other thing' with boys. And I'm `free' to admit it to myself. And I'm `free' to fantasize about boys, which I do a lot. And I'm `free' to go on the internet and find pictures of hot-lookin' boys, even naked boys sometimes, as long as nobody could ever prove those pictures were pornographic. And I'm `free' to find on-line erotic stories about boys, and read them and jerk off – and I can even write my own erotic stories and post them on-line if I want, and I could even write a whole story about you!" Well this definitely was giving Julian the creeps, so I immediately said, "Oh – but don't worry – even if I ever did that I'd change a bunch of stuff around and give you a different name so nobody could ever identify you." But I don't know how reassuring that was. "BUT – all this `freedom' to fantasize about boys isn't really freedom at all! Instead, it's just like a prison I've created for myself. My mind is like a prison where I've locked up all these fantasies. I can never tell the outside world about them, or my whole life will crumble to dust just like Johann! And holy shit Julian – I can never, NEVER act on any of these fantasies by actually having sex with a boy! I'd be arrested and thrown in jail for the rest of my life, and I could never live with myself if I did anything like that either." At this point Julian broke in to say, "But last night we got stoned and watched that porn movie together, and you even jerked me off! What about that??" "Oh, that's just because you're a fantasy boy," I said, "If you were real, I'd've chickened out before I ever picked you up hitch-hiking!" "HUH?!" Julian obviously didn't get it, but that didn't matter because I wasn't really talking to him anyway, I was talking to myself. "And really," I continued, "it's not like I have any objection to society's rules against pedophilia, or even the laws that would send me to jail if I ever acted on my impulses. I really don't, because even I can see that no adult should be messing around with a kid your age. That's why I told you right at the beginning, I'm not gonna do anything to ya, and if I ever do anything you don't like, you're always free to go." Oh yes, I had everything all completely rationalized, just like Johann! "And tomorrow, I leave this fantasy and go back to my real life. And ya know what? I really like my real life! I have a good job, and a wife that I love, and a family I'm proud of. But ... this thing about boys is always gonna be there – like a prison – and there isn't one fuckin' thing I can do about it ..." "... And so, in exactly what way am I `free'? No way at all. In fact, Johann is much more `free' than I'll ever be, because he's completely free of all the debilitating fantasies that plague a guy like me. The strict rules of Amish society – those rules are not a straight-jacket for Johann – they actually free him from ever even realizing he has an attraction to boys. Instead, there he is puttering around his general store thinking he's doing a wonderful thing by providing all the school supplies for the David County Amish Educational Cooperative ..." I was finished talking to myself. But I could tell that little soliloquy had freaked Julian out some, because he wasn't sitting sideways in the seat displaying himself to me anymore, and because we hardly spoke for the rest of the trip over to the Lincoln Boyhood Home, except to point out a few things to each other along the way.