Chapter Six To Wong Foo, Thanks for Everything! Julie Newmar, dir. by Beeban Kidron #2
So, borrowing more money isn’t exactly something Eli wants to do right now.
“You could try freelancing, there’s good money in it,” John says, rinsing the knife and setting it on the drying rack. “You shouldn’t be miserable in a job you hate. It eats away at you.”
Eli appreciates the advice, but John is the director of the Museum of Fine Arts in Berkeley, with a résumé full of positions
in galleries all over New York, Chicago, and Los Angeles, procuring artists and their work for exhibits. He’s been doing the
work that he loves for three decades now, so it’s easy for him to just tell Eli to quit.
If Eli quits, that’s five years of his life down the drain. Five years of learning nothing other than that he can barely tolerate
the smell of coffee, how to do double-sided collated scans, and that he has to bring cash to the UPS office down the street
because their card reader is always broken. He’s gotten no experience in writing, is barely any better at self-editing, and
has no audience of readers eager to follow him somewhere else.
He’ll have nothing.
Then again, Michael might just fire him anyway for pulling this article stunt. But at least then he’d be going out swinging.
A moment later, Rue and Les both come back into the kitchen.
“Hey, kid.” Eli snags a crouton from the bag on the counter. “How was cello practice?” There’s a certain awkwardness that
comes with being sixteen years older than your younger sibling. By the time Les was born, Eli was in his junior year of high
school, and the last thing some dumb teenager wants to do is help raise their younger sibling. But through the years, the
two of them have gotten more comfortable with one another, their odd friendship cemented when Les told Eli they’re non-binary,
asked for his help with their clothes, their hair, how they wanted to present.
Because nothing can bond two half siblings together like a little gender dysphoria.
“Fine.” They wrap their arms around Eli, giving him an awkward hug. “Are you coming to the recital in January?”
“Wouldn’t miss it, dude.” Eli rakes his hands through their short hair. “John said there were some girls who were messing with you?”
“Yeah.”
“We talked about it,” Rue says, turning off the burners on the stove and grabbing her strainer for the pasta noodles. “I’m
calling their instructor first thing in the morning. He is not going to take my money and sit there while my baby gets bullied.”
“Mom... it’s not that serious,” Les protests.
“Hey,” Eli whispers, pulling Les in closer. “Take some oranges and put them in a sock. It won’t leave any bruises.”
“Seriously?” Les asks.
“Eli!” Rue glares at her son. “Don’t you dare.”
“What did I say?” He feigns innocence. “Les, did I tell you to do anything?”
“Nope!” Les says quickly, their voice going higher at the lie.
“See?”
Rue eyes both of her children suspiciously, probably thanking God that the two of them didn’t grow up together. She might
have grayer hair if they had.
For the rest of the night, he’s safe from any talk of a relationship. At least, that’s what he thinks. It isn’t brought up
again until his mother offers to drive him across the bridge and back to his apartment. Eli claims it would be too out of
the way, but eventually accepts a ride to the BART station because he knows his mother won’t let it go.
“Are you sure you don’t want Oliver’s number?”
“Who is Oliver?” Eli asks, turning up the heat to warm his hands.
“Our intern, he’s a very nice boy. Very handsome. Studied Latin in school!”
“Why? It’s a dead language.”
“Still, it’s impressive!”
“Mom...”
“Don’t ‘mom’ me, Eli. I’m just trying to help you out.”
“By setting me up with guys I’ve never met?”
“I just want you to be happy. I feel like you’re being held back by your inner saboteur.”
“Is that another RuPaul thing?”
“He’s a very smart man.”
“Well, he does support trains rights.”
“See?” Rue waves her son off, not getting the joke. “I’m just saying, you’ll never move on past Keith unless you get back
out there.”
“It sounds like you’ve been talking to Patricia and Rose.”
“I have! They’re very nice girls.” Rue flips on her turn signal. “But that’s not the point—”
“Mom, I’m seeing someone.”
Eli lurches forward as his mother slams on the brakes, his seat belt locking.
“You are ?” she says, shock all over her face.
“You don’t have to act surprised.” He can’t help himself. It’s the only way that he can get his mother off his back.
“Well, you’ve spent the last six months turning down every boy I’ve wanted to introduce to you.”
“Yeah, well... I didn’t want to tell you just yet.”
The car behind them honks loudly at where they’ve stopped in the middle of the street.
“Okay, okay, don’t get your panties twisted.” Rue fusses, accelerating to catch up with traffic. “So, tell me about him. What’s
his name? Does he live in the city? He doesn’t work with you, right? I told you, Eli, you need to stay away from your coworkers,
it only makes things messy—”
Eli has to stop her before she truly starts to rant. “He doesn’t work at Vent , Mom. He works in tech.”
“Oh, well...” Rue pretends to be happy to hear that. “That’s wonderful.”
“Yeah.”
“Show me a picture.”
Eli sighs, questioning whether this truly was worth it. He fishes in his pocket, pulling up his texts to Peter and the selfies
that he sent.
“Oh, what a handsome young man.”
“Mom!” Eli has to scream so she’ll brake, avoiding a fender bender with the car in front of them.
“I’m sorry, I’m just... so happy for you, Eli.” She smiles at him.
“Thanks.”
“When do I get to meet him?”
What a good question , Eli thinks. He figures that introducing Peter to his family at some point will be a good test, a showcase for what Peter’s
learned. He’s already gotten a head start on both articles, writing a bit about his and Peter’s first two dates. And he’s
written a few paragraphs about the things Peter had shared with him.
“No idea,” Eli tells her. “It’s still new.”
“We’ll go out next weekend.”
“Mom, I don’t want to scare him.”
“You’re saying I’m scary?” she asks.
“Maybe a little bit,” Eli teases. It’s just that Peter was a nervous wreck meeting Eli for the second time. “I’m just taking
things slow.”
“Well, he seems nice.”
“You don’t know him,” Eli says.
“I know, but I’ve got that sixth sense. A mother always knows.” She points a finger. “And this Peter looks like a nice boy.”
Eli’s inclined to agree.
Peter’s a very nice boy.
Maybe even too nice for his own good. Though Eli isn’t sure he can say the same about himself. No, scratch that. He knows
he isn’t good. If he were, he wouldn’t be lying to two different people about the intentions of his articles. But that’s all
these are, articles. That’s it. That’s what Eli tells himself at least.
And that’s all they have to be.