Chapter Five 13 Going on 30, dir. by Gary Winick
“And you actually want to do this?” Patricia sits on Eli’s bed once again, Eli adjusting the collar of his button-down shirt where it showed from
under the sweater, careful of his hair.
All week, he’d spent his free time organizing his thoughts, writing out the throughlines of the articles that he wants to
follow, questions to ask Peter, where he’d even start with writing two entirely different stories for Michael.
“He asked me to give him another shot,” Eli tells her as he wrestles with his hair once again. Rose is out, having stayed
late at school to finish up her lesson planning for the next week, meaning that Eli’s been left alone to tame the wild mess
that sits on top of his head.
He has his father to thank for that. Despite balding late in his thirties, David Francis had sported a nest of thick black
hair through most of his young adult years. Pre-transition, Eli’s hair had been just as thick, but more wavy than curly, and
much easier to control.
Truthfully, he hadn’t believed all the things he’d heard from other trans people about the effects of testosterone. How could
your hair magically become curly? How was it possible for your body odor to change? How could you magically become gay?
And yet, that hadn’t stopped it from happening. At least the first two; the most drastic change with Eli’s sexuality was having to reckon that his attraction to men was of the homo variety and not the hetero kind, which was its own wild battle.
Even now, in a place where Eli considers himself well into his transition, it’s haunted him just how much he looks like his father. The same thin frame, the same pasty-white skin that burns after just minutes in the sun, the
same sharp angle of the nose and shape of his eyes.
“So, I wanted to give him one.” Eli runs his hands along the sweater, flattening it out a bit.
“You must think he’s really cute to give him a second chance.” Patricia beams, shimmying her shoulders in excitement.
“What does that mean?”
“Considering you’ve spent the last six months whining about how dating isn’t for you, I’m surprised you’d want to go out again
so soon. Especially with Peter again.”
Eli swallows. All week he considered telling Patricia about everything, just to have someone in his corner for this little
scheme of his. But something’s stopped him every time he tries to bring it up, like his brain just knew it’d be a bad idea.
Technically he’s not doing anything wrong, but that hasn’t stopped the odd sense of guilt he feels when he really gives this
idea thought. He just keeps telling himself he’s doing something important, something worthwhile. And helping Peter along the way.
Everyone wins.
“I decided you and Rose are right,” he tells her just as much as he’s telling himself, tucking his hair behind his ears and
straightening his glasses. He could do without the zit that’s working its way out from under his nose, the red bump tender
when Eli touches it. “I thought a lot about what you both said, about getting back out there, and giving people chances. I
decided that Peter was worth the second chance.”
He almost believes himself; the lie comes out so naturally.
“Well, that’s very big of you, Eli.”
“Yeah... maybe.” He doesn’t meet her eyes in the mirror.
“Where are you going?” she asks, the bed frame creaking as she stands and joins Eli in front of the mirror, smoothing out
the shoulders of the outfit. As they stumbled into September, Eli’s sweaters became a little less appropriate for the weather.
As if Northern California operated on its own schedule, their version of summer took place mostly at the start of the fall,
finishing a few weeks into October. The sweater might be a bit much in the warmer night air, but he doesn’t want to wear anything
else.
“Doobu and a movie,” Eli says, stepping away and grabbing the cologne from his dresser.
Patricia turns, leaning against the wall with her arms crossed, her mouth open. “You’re going on a repeat date?”
“We’re calling it First Date 2.0. He wanted a redo, and I thought it was a cute idea,” Eli fibs, more than happy to let Peter
take credit for his idea.
He’d gone as far as to spend his free time watching the rom-com classics that he felt were applicable to his incredibly weird
fake-dating situation that isn’t actually fake-dating. How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days , Drive Me Crazy , To All the Boys I’ve Loved Before , Anyone But You .
There were some takeaways, sure, but Eli isn’t delusional enough to think he can just apply movie logic to his life.
“Do you have a picture of him?” Patricia asks. “Is he cute?”
“None to speak of,” Eli tells her. It was one of the few topics they’d discussed so far, and Eli had to break the news to
Peter that having no social media was a huge red flag. And, to his credit, Peter made an Instagram right after that conversation.
So far, Eli is his only follower, but they’re building a platform. They spent hours picking the best pictures for Peter to
post of himself, the ones that really showed off his personality, ones that could easily fit on a Hinge, Bumble, or Tinder
profile as well.
Unfortunately, there weren’t that many to pick from. The man is gorgeous, no doubt. But Eli had to make a mental note to teach him about angles in selfies.
And because of that, most of their text thread is taken up by pictures of Peter sent over the course of a single day. Him
in North Beach, him sweaty in some gym somewhere, him at his desk.
Eli: are you sending these all as you take them?
He couldn’t help but ask, his curiosity getting the best of him.
Peter: Should I not have done that?
Eli had smiled at his phone as the message came in.
Eli: no, keep sending them.
Eli: we need plenty of options.
Eli had liked the ones he thought would make good choices, and the longer he looked at these pictures of Peter, the harder
he found it to believe that Peter had never gone out with anyone before Eli.
Then again, wasn’t that what he was here to find out? So far, none of their few talks had led to talking about Peter’s upbringing,
but Eli figured it was best to save those heavier conversations for their in-person dates.
A few articles had broached the subject of what it was like to grow up queer in the South, and a handful of books, mostly
fictional. A movie or two. A lot of music, almost too much. But by and large, the subject seemed fairly unexplored. What Eli did find was distressing, to say the least. Stories of being kicked out of their home, assault, death, isolation, and fear, being surrounded by people who hate for no reason.
Eli’s heart ached.
“Okay!” Patricia sings as she steps out of the bedroom and back toward the kitchen where her dinner for the night simmers
on the stove, the warm smell of the chili making Eli’s stomach grumble. “But I demand a picture before the night is over with.
I want to see this guy.”
“Okay, I’ll take pictures,” he bemoans. Of course, he could just show her the dozen or so pictures of Peter that he’d saved to his phone, just so he could remember the ones that he likes,
but he doesn’t feel like it. Showing Peter to Patricia makes this severely more real than he’d like it to be.
“I’d like to know who’s courting my best friend.”
Eli snorts. “‘Courting’?”
“It’s a word.”
“That no well-adjusted person has used since the eighteen hundreds.”
Patricia follows Eli into the living room, standing behind him at the mirror so she can tug at Eli’s neckline, pulling the
collar of the shirt free, unbuttoning the top button because the relaxed version of his outfit fits Eli better. “Now you don’t
look like a schoolboy. Unless Peter’s into that?”
“Barf.” Eli turns.
“Should I wait up for you?” Patricia asks, wiggling her eyebrows so that Eli gets her meaning. “Or are you gonna go back to
his place?”
“Yeah, no. There will be none of that.” Eli’s voice tenses.
“Why’d you say it that way?”
He curses himself. It’s going to take some getting used to, keeping this act going even when Peter isn’t around. “We’re just...
taking it slow,” he explains. “I’m easing him into the whole dating thing, remember?”
“Oh, well.” Patricia hops on top of the counter, swinging her feet back and forth. “Don’t worry if you come back and the apartment is dark. I’m either having mind-blowing sex or I’m wallowing in my own misery.”
“Good, nice to see that you’re growing.” Eli gives her his best smile, which isn’t much of anything at all, and grabs his
wallet and keys. And he’s out the door.
***
The entire bus ride to Japantown, Eli isn’t really sure what to feel. There are nerves, of course, and they might even be
worse than they were last week. But there’s a hopefulness as well, not just for the article, but for helping Peter feel good
in a way that he didn’t expect.
If only he were more confident in his dating skills. He’s had a few moments of panic sprinkled throughout the week, wondering
just who he is to try and help Peter. And whether or not this harebrained scheme will actually work.
Whatever it is that he’s feeling, it’s doubled as he walks through the front doors of the restaurant and sees that Peter is
already there and waiting for him in the very same booth that they sat in last week. It’s just that now Peter has their seats
reversed, so his eyes meet Eli’s from across the restaurant.
Peter stands up too quickly, knocking into the table like a calf just learning to walk, holding his hand out in front of him
like he’s actually trying to properly greet Eli.
“You’re here before me?” Eli double-checks the time on his phone.
“I didn’t want to be late... again.” Peter smiles at him, motioning to the booth like he’s waiting for Eli to take a seat
before he sits again, sliding into the booth more carefully this time. “I set a ton of alarms, so that way I wouldn’t be late.”
As if on cue, Peter’s phone begins blaring an alarm from its spot on the table, and he scrambles to reach for it to shut it
off.