Chapter Ten Cruising, dir. by William Friedkin #6
you can borrow them from me.”
“I think I’m good.”
Peter shrugs. “I donated them to the library already.”
“You didn’t answer my question, though,” Eli continues. “Why do you hide them?”
“Because...” Peter lets his head hang low. “It’s embarrassing.”
“Why?”
“’Cause I’m a grown man reading romance novels. Isn’t that reason enough?”
“No, I don’t think it is. In fact, if you were interested in women, I’d go as far to say that’d be in your favor.”
“It’s cheesy, though.” Peter takes the book, flipping through the worn pages. It’s clear just from the spine that this is
either used or a library copy, or one that Peter has read over and over again.
“Peter, honey. Lots of people don’t read at all. Besides, you’re allowed to read what you want. It’s your money and your time. So long as you enjoy it, who cares?”
“You don’t think it’s weird?” he asks.
“Why would I?”
“I don’t know.” Peter shrugs, and he lets a nervous giggle out. “Actually, at one point in time I was using them to try and
learn how to date. Before you came along.”
“Seriously?”
Peter nods. “It’s probably a good thing I stopped, or else I might’ve turned into some alpha male douchebag.”
“Hey, come on. Sometimes douchey guys are hot.”
“Seriously?”
“No, I was kidding.”
Peter laughs again.
“Besides, there’s no way that reading romance is any worse than what’s going on up there.” Eli dares to tap Peter’s temple.
“Romances are cool.”
“Have you ever read any?” Peter asks.
“No, but I’ve watched plenty. The classics are classics for a reason. When Harry Met Sally... , Mamma Mia! , Love & Basketball , In the Mood for Love , The Watermelon Woman .”
“I’ve heard of a few of those,” Peter admits.
“Color me surprised!” Eli exclaims. “But you shouldn’t hide the things that you’re interested in. If someone doesn’t like
that you read romance, then they’re not someone worth your time.”
“No, I know. I guess... I don’t know. It’s a force of habit,” Peter admits. “I hid the books I read when I was younger,
at home with my parents.”
“Can I ask why?”
“Well, for most of them it’s because they were queer. Of course that ended up being for nothing, but I was so terrified to
tell my parents about being gay, and I thought they’d know if they saw me reading those books even though they literally never
cared about what I was reading.”
Eli’s heart breaks just a little more.
Peter shifts so that he can face Eli. “Can I tell you something without you laughing at me?”
“Of course. I’m not going to laugh at you, Peter.”
“No, like...” Peter’s eyes finally meet Eli’s, and Eli can see something different there now.
Something new. “I, uh...” He pauses, still so unsure of his words, clearly.
Eli wishes that he knew the right words, the correct words that could convince Peter that everything is okay, that Eli’s not here to judge him.
Then again, isn’t that exactly what he’s here to do? Isn’t that the entire basis of their relationship? Eli judging Peter,
“fixing” him.
“I always wanted to be a writer,” he finally says. “A romance writer.”
“Oh...” Eli’s brows furrow, and his face betrays him without meaning to.
“See.” Peter lets out a frustrated sigh. “I knew I shouldn’t have—”
“No, no! Peter, I swear I wasn’t judging you.” Eli reaches for him again, the warmth of Peter’s skin against his spreading
slowly. “I was just surprised.”
“Is it that weird?”
“No, I mean, Peter... I want to be a writer too,” Eli tells him. “I just thought it’d be something more serious than that.
Not like—not that it isn’t serious if it’s your dream. But I expected... I don’t know, like a terminal-illness-diagnosis
level of seriousness.”
Way to go, Eli , he thinks. Taste that foot in your mouth?
“I’m sorry,” he says. “That came out so wrong.”
“No... I mean, yeah. Kinda.” Peter chuckles. “My parents told me that I’d never make a living that way, that I needed to
be practical and actually do something with myself. That’s why I picked computer science in a tech city. I didn’t think I
had the argument skills to be a lawyer. And blood icks me out.” Peter shudders.
“Why romance?” Eli asks, hoping that he doesn’t sound judgmental. He stands, following Peter to the dryers, taking a few of
the items and folding them carefully, even if they’ll just be shoved into a laundry bag for their journey back to Peter’s
apartment.
“I guess... growing up, I never got a love story for myself, especially not in Comer. I always felt like I was looking over my shoul der. Afraid that someone could just sense that I was gay,” Peter admits, his voice low, almost like he’s ashamed.
“I found these stories of people falling in love, sharing themselves with each other. Some of them were gay, some of them Korean, sometimes both, but more often than not, I couldn’t find books that replicated my experience, the things I felt.
It was just nice to read about something happy.
I always knew what to expect. They meet each other, resist their feelings, one or both of them mess up before they reunite and have that big final moment where they admit their feelings for each other.
They got the happily ever after. It made me feel safe. ”
He sighs, this time trying his best to laugh, to add levity. It doesn’t work, not on Eli at least.
“Which sounds so stupid when I say it out loud.”
“No,” Eli tells him, folding a muted orange shirt. “It doesn’t.”
Peter shrugs. “It’s okay.”
“No, it’s really not.”
“I wouldn’t have made money as a writer. My work is terrible, and most writers can barely scrape by with their advances. Plus,
I’d have to like... the idea of even one person who isn’t me reading my stuff scares the shit out of me, much less potentially
thousands of them.” Peter closes his eyes. “I guess I just got tired of having a dream I was too afraid to chase after.”
Eli pauses, Peter’s words hitting him hard, wondering just what he feels in this moment. Because it’s not just sympathy...
it’s understanding. He remembers all too well those feelings that loved to creep their way to the forefront of his mind as
he edited an essay or article, staring at his screen and wondering just what he’s doing, if it’s worth it, if anyone would ever actually read any of it.
It’s oddly a relief to see so much of himself in Peter, at least in this moment. He knows the feeling of chasing a dream for
so long only to be disappointed time and time again, the fear that builds, wondering if he’s good enough or if everyone’s
been lying to him.
“Thousands of readers? Getting ahead of ourselves, aren’t we?” Eli jokes.
“Yeah, maybe.”
“I was teasing, Peter.”
“You’re right, though,” he admits. “It’s best to just... keep it to myself. At least we’ll always need people to code stock
in a warehouse.”
“I don’t think that’s even close to true,” Eli says. “But you know what people will always need?”
Peter looks at him. “What?”
“Happy stories about people falling in love,” Eli tells him. “The world is desperate for them. Always has been, always will
be. Storytelling is our oldest art form.” That’s what he’s told himself, at least. What he had to say to keep himself moving
forward.
Even when he didn’t believe it all the time.
There’s the most delicate hint of a smile. “Thanks, Eli. I appreciate it.”
Eli feels that sinking in his stomach, wondering if he’s given Peter false hope that he shouldn’t have. Who is he to tell
Peter to chase his own dreams when he can’t even leave Vent ?
“Tell me about it,” Eli begs, scooting closer. “Your idea.”
“You don’t want to hear it.”
“I do.” Eli looks him right in the eye, so Peter absolutely knows that he’s telling the truth. “You’re my friend, Peter. I
want to hear about what you’re working on.”
“You really don’t.”
“Okay, then...” Eli has to think for a moment. “Then this is a dating lesson. In sharing yourself, your vulnerabilities,
dreams.”
Peter looks so unsure.
“If you’re going to date,” Eli elaborates, making up his excuse on the spot, “you’re going to have to share parts of yourself.
Even the scary parts that you think are ugly.
It’s what it means to fall in love—getting to know someone and being brave enough to share the pieces of yourself that you’d want to hide. ”
“But that’s... this is—”
“Am I not teaching you how to be a better boyfriend?”
“Yeah...”
“Then this is a lesson.”
“What if it weirds that person out? Or like... they don’t like it?”
“Well, firstly, I think your brain is being mean to you. People want to be writers, Peter. If someone thinks that you’re weird for wanting to follow your dreams, no matter what they are, then
they’re the ones not worth your time. Not the other way around. You deserve people who like you for you.”
The smile that Eli is looking for finally appears, and it’s the first time all night that he feels warm again. “Thanks, Eli.”
“You’re welcome, Peter. Now—” Eli sets down the last of the folded clothes, leaping up to sit on the empty dryer he’s been
standing in front of. “Tell me this idea, I want to hear all about it.”
“This Korean guy is fresh to the city, he’s never dated anyone, never kissed anyone, wants to paint but works at a job he
hates, never been in love before.”
“Sounds very autobiographical,” Eli tells him. “So, what’s the romance? Who does he fall in love with?”
“A friend asks him to go to a family wedding. Both of them have felt the pressure from their families to date and to get married,
so they arrange this whole situation just to get their parents off their backs. Of course, while they’re faking, they start
to have real-life feelings.”
“A tale as old as time,” Eli sings.
“You think it’s interesting?”
“Yeah, I’d totally read it,” Eli tells him. “Even though I don’t read fiction, or much at all beyond things for research.”
Peter nods. “I have a full manuscript. Ninety thousand words, but I just... can’t really get myself to open the document again. To start editing it, send it to agents.”
“There’s a fear of rereading your own writing.” One that Eli’s all too familiar with.
“Yeah, it’s like that.”
“I know what you mean.” Eli kicks his feet back and forth. “Back in college, when I actually got the chance to write, I was
terrified to give my editors the articles I’d written. No matter how many times I did it, no matter how many times they told me my work
was good, that I only needed to change a few things. It never got any easier.”
“It’s just... if I finish this, if I edit it and send it out to people... what if it’s still not any good? What if people
hate it? I could get an agent, a publisher could buy it, and readers could still hate me and the book.”
“Well... just because you spent a lot of time on something doesn’t mean that it’ll be good, or that people have to appreciate
it.”
“Thanks...” Peter tries to laugh.
“Let me finish my point!” Eli tells him. “ But... as long as you like what you’ve done, as long as you can stand by what you’ve written, that you can say you’re proud of it,
then that’s all that has to matter. The people out there who want your writing will follow.”
“You think so?”
“I know so,” Eli tells him, doing his best to ignore his own words.
But now, maybe Peter will take that chance, maybe this conversation will convince him to chase after his dream, to edit his
book.
To do the one thing that Eli’s never been able to do.