Chapter Two Idle Hands, dir. by Rodman Flender #2
“You can’t make me move,” he tells her. Except Patricia’s day includes regular exercise and weight lifting, meaning that she
absolutely can make Eli move if she wants to.
And she does, pulling him into an upright position and sliding in behind him.
“What’s going on?” he asks, aware that he’s now surrounded.
“We’ve needed to talk to you,” Rose says bluntly. “Pat, you wanna go first?”
“What’s going on?” Eli repeats, slower this time.
“Think of this as... an intervention—” Patricia starts to say.
And Rose hops right on the ride. “A You have no life and it’s getting pretty sad intervention.”
“Jeez, don’t spare my feelings.” Eli brushes his hair away from his face, thinking about how badly he needs a haircut, but
also how Keith loved the shaggier look of his curls. How Keith would play with the strands, twirling them with his finger,
or even washing Eli’s hair for him in the shower because he found it relaxing.
“Rose and I have been talking, and we really think it’d be good for you to get back out there for yourself.” Eli feels Patricia’s
hand on his knee.
It’s in this moment that he realizes this is a serious conversation. Not the half-baked kind where Patricia and Rose would
drop the topic after a minute or two. “I told you I’m fine .”
Rose snorts. “You really aren’t, dude. Only people who aren’t fine say ‘I’m fine.’”
“Rose!” Patricia hisses.
“What? What’s the point in lying to him?”
Eli knows that she’s right, that he isn’t okay, no matter how often he tells himself he is. “I’ve tried,” he admits to them
both. “I’ve been trying! Guys just... they fucking suck.”
Despite living in one of the queerest cities on the planet, Eli feels lucky to get a single-word response to most of the messages
he sends. He could count on one hand how many conversations went past the introduction. And he could count on two hands how
many of those messages ended up being from couples looking for a third, or a group trying to get him to join their polycule.
And while he doesn’t see anything wrong with that, Eli strongly prefers monogamy. A concept that—seemingly—most of the men
in San Francisco consider strange and foreign.
“We understand that you’re still hurting from Keith.
It’d be stupid to think that a few months would be enough to get over a relationship that lasted more than half a decade,” Patricia continues.
“But we don’t think that you’re doing yourself any favors by isolating yourself in the apartment and smoking weed on the weekends. ”
“You know I prefer edibles,” he tells them. No smell from edibles.
“Not the point. You’re hurting now, but it’ll get better,” Rose replies. “Day by day, it might seem slow, but it does get
better. You don’t ever get rid of the pain, you just learn to live with it, to tolerate it.” Her voice goes quiet. “That’s
what I had to tell one of my kids when her dad died.”
Patricia and Eli both turn toward her slowly, concern vibrant in their expressions.
“Jesus, Rose...” Patricia whispers.
“Or maybe it was a dog...” She seems to think for a moment. “I can’t really remember.”
“Either way...” Patricia says, dragging out her words, like she’s trying to brush past whatever it was that just happened.
“Rose is right. You just get used to it.”
“It was a guinea pig!” Rose finally reveals. “Her guinea pig died. Her mom didn’t see it and sucked it right up with the vacuum
cleaner.”
“Okay... that’s enough talking from Rose for the night, I think,” Patricia jumps back in, then stands and offers a hand
to Rose to help her up from the couch.
“What did I do?”
“Nothing, sweetie. Nothing at all. Go down to Orphan Andy’s and get some milkshakes. I’ll handle talking to Eli.”
“Two chocolate and a peanut butter?” Rose slips on her teal Crocs at the door before she grabs her phone and keys.
“Please and thank you!”
“I’ll be back!” Rose heads to the door. “Oh, and Patricia!”
“Yes?”
“Convince Eli that he needs to get back out there again and it’s really sad that he just wants to sit on the couch and watch old Swedish movies.”
“Will do, sweet cheeks.”
“Eli!”
Eli braces himself for whatever it is she’s about to say. “Yes?”
“Realize you’re a treasure and that you just need to get over yourself to find a guy who you will fall madly in love with.”
“Thanks, Rose.” He appreciates the enthusiastic truthfulness that Rose loves to hand out when she’s even slightly intoxicated. Both Patricia and Eli watch as she disappears out the front door, and then listen to her footsteps as she marches
down the stairs, the silence of the apartment juxtaposed with Tyra Banks giving girls a lesson on smizing.
“So, you’re saying that I like... need a rebound or something?” Eli asks, pulling a throw pillow from the couch close to
his chest, his fingers playing with the strands that dangle from the edges.
“Well... it might not hurt? But I think you need something a little stronger than just a rebound,” Patricia says. “You
need to get out there, go on a date with someone other than the toys in your nightstand.”
“Okay, but how do I do that when people don’t seem interested in me at all?”
“I think that maybe you’re reading the situation wrong, Eli. Maybe it’s not that these people aren’t interested, but maybe
you’re putting out the wrong energy.”
“So, what’s the right energy?”
“Well, the dating apps are your first mistake.” Patricia picks up Eli’s phone from the coffee table, plugging in the passcode with ease.
Being friends for as long as they have, there aren’t many secrets between the two of them.
They’ve popped each other’s zits in awkward places and had full conversations with one sitting on the toilet while the other showered.
Patricia helped administer Eli’s testosterone shots before he made the switch to the gel; Eli showed up at Patricia’s terrible dates pretending to be a scorned ex-boyfriend.
They’ve even walked in on the other masturbating.
Accidentally, of course, but there are certain walls around a friendship you can never put back up when you’ve seen your roommate having sex with themselves.
“You need to meet someone face-to-face,” Patricia says. “I think that’ll be good for you. Though, knowing your interests,
I don’t think I can recommend you meet a guy at some Persona showing.”
“You say that like meeting people is so easy.” At least the dating apps had no stakes. If it fizzled out, it fizzled out.
“True.” Patricia nods. “But I know that you’re desperate enough, and if I have to suffer through one more of your depressive
episodes where all you do is watch Wong Kar-Wai movies, then I’m going to put a bullet in my brain.”
“You liked Chungking Express .”
“Yes, that’s what I told you. But none of that matters right now.”
“So, what does?” Eli asks warily.
Patricia smiles at him slyly. “I’m glad you asked.”
“Oh no...”
Eli watches as she readjusts her position, scooting closer and leaving Eli’s phone to fall between the couch cushions.
“No, no. It’s not bad. I swear.”
“I feel like you saying that means it’s going to be bad.”
“Remember that guy I mentioned? The coworker of my friend of a friend?”
“Do you have a flowchart for me to follow?” he asks. “Maybe a PowerPoint presentation?”
“It’s not that complicated,” Patricia reassures him. “His name is Peter, he’s fresh to the city, doesn’t have many friends, and is very gay.”
“Pfft, well, then, sign me up!” Eli spouts sarcastically, trying to pick himself up off the couch, but none of his limbs really
seem to be cooperating with him.
“Come on, you’re judging him before you’ve even met him.”
“Have you? Met him?”
Patricia hesitates.
“Okay, then.” Eli nods.
“He works at Zelus. The tech start-up.”
“And that’s a positive thing?” A tech bro? Eli can name about a thousand other professions he’d rather date before braving
the tech world for dating options. “Anything else? If he drives a Tesla—”
“I know that he’s Korean. And his first name.”
“Do you have a picture? What’s his Instagram?” Eli digs in the couch for his phone, then pulls up the app, ignoring how Keith’s
profile waits for him in Recently Searched.
“He doesn’t have one,” Patricia admits. “And I have no pictures.”
“You know nothing about this guy? Even what he looks like? He could be a murderer for all you know!”
“He’s not, I swear. Francine—the coworker—just thinks that he needs to get out more. Like you! He works totally remote, he’s
pretty much logged on all day, declines all her invites out for drinks, never shows up at company outings.”
“So, it’s a pity project?”
“Eli...” Patricia whines, tossing her head back. “Work with me here. I’m trying to help.”
“By setting me up with a complete stranger who is afraid to leave his house? Has Francine ever considered that he’s agoraphobic?
Maybe he doesn’t want to leave his house—maybe he’s happy?”
“Francine said nice things! And he’s told her that he wants to date, explore the city. He just doesn’t know how.”
“I’ve never even met Francine. How can I trust their opinion in men?”
“You could trust mine?” Patricia says to him.
Eli stares at his friend, gnawing softly on his bottom lip.
This isn’t what he wants. He’s spent the last few months coming to terms with his love life being over, the idea of finding
someone new an impossible task that has kept him up until three in the morning, staring at his ceiling in a rolling fit of
anxiety. Unless by some miracle Keith wanted to take him back.
And he thinks for a moment, considering all the possibilities. He hadn’t expected to fall in love at that party; how could
he have? But deep down he knows that Patricia and Rose are right, no matter how badly he doesn’t want to admit it. If his
job isn’t going anywhere, why shouldn’t his love life? At least this he can control. At least he can try .
He just wants to love French toast again.
“It’s just one date, and you don’t even have to like the guy,” Patricia tells him. “I just think it’ll be good for you to—”
“I’ll do it,” Eli says.
Maybe it’s the brownies talking, maybe it’s the hurt in his heart. More likely, it’s some weird chemical imbalance of both.
But he weighs his options carefully. Even if he doesn’t like this Peter guy, he tried, and Patricia and Rose can’t lecture
him about getting back out there. And if he does like him... maybe he’ll have made a friend?
Patricia seems surprised at the complete one-eighty. Eli doesn’t tell her that he is as well. “You... you will?”
Eli nods. “Set it up. Send me his number.”
“Oh... okay!” She smiles. “Okay, yeah. Let’s do it.”
It’s a bit anticlimactic; Patricia can’t exactly text Francine at ten o’clock at night to get a guy’s number.
Leaving him with nothing to do except devour the milkshake that Rose brings back.
Eventually, a movie is decided on, Rose and Patricia relaxing their “No Muppets” house rule because of Eli’s heartbreak.
Not that it matters since Rose has to leave for the bathroom halfway in because she’s never properly taken care of her lactose intolerance.
The night goes on, and Patricia and Rose both eventually fall asleep on the couch, draped over each other while Eli stretches
out on the ottoman, laughing to himself as the TV auto-plays The Great Muppet Caper after the original movie finishes.
He sees his phone out of the corner of his eye, the mustard-yellow case nearly glowing in the darkness of the apartment. He
picks it up, opening Instagram again and going to Keith’s profile. He ignores the urge to watch Keith’s stories, knowing that
his name would appear right at the top of Keith’s viewers. And there’s no way he would give Keith the satisfaction.
He scrolls past the rows of photos to just before they ended things, and even further than that. There are no photos of Eli;
Keith always promised it was because of networking, which means nothing ever stopped him from tagging Michael, or their coworkers,
or the celebrities that Keith got to meet.
It’s almost like Eli never existed.
He wants to imagine that Keith’s smile was brighter in the photos from last year, two years ago, back during his final year
of college. He wants to claim that gleam in Keith’s eye for himself. But there’s truly no way of knowing.
Eli deletes Keith’s username from the search bar and sets his phone down, turning his attention back to the movie. He’s spent
the last seven months convinced that romance isn’t for him, that he doesn’t want to date if it isn’t to win Keith back, even
if he doesn’t believe in romance anymore, even if he thinks that his love life is done, that he lost the chance with the man
he thought was the one.
At the very least, maybe he can get a free meal out of it.