Chapter Thirteen The Watermelon Woman, dir. by Cheryl Dunye
“Are you okay?” Eli asks while he and Peter are on the bus, both standing because every seat on the bus is filled, the evening
riders packing themselves in like sardines.
“Yeah, yeah... I’m okay,” Peter says quickly enough to tell Eli that he is, in fact, not okay. “I’m fine. Are you?”
“You seem more nervous than the first time we went out. The real first time, when you spilled soup on me.”
“I’m fine, I promise. Totally okay.”
“Iced Americano,” Eli says to him.
Peter flushes. “Is something wrong?”
“Yes, you’re not telling me the truth.”
“There’s nothing to tell,” Peter tries to assure him. But Eli likes to think that he knows Peter well enough by now to tell
when Peter’s lying.
“Peter,” Eli whispers. The bus is one of the newer fully electric models the city has been rolling out slowly, meaning it’s
almost eerily quiet, despite the amount of riders, and it’s all too easy for their conversation to be eavesdropped on by the
other riders. “Please, tell me the truth.”
“I...” Peter opens his mouth, staring down at Eli before he turns away in embarrassment. “Yeah, I guess it’s your parents.”
“We don’t have to meet them,” Eli tells him. “I can call and cancel; we can do this some other time. They’ll understand.”
“No, I don’t want to do that. Besides, isn’t this supposed to be some big test for me?”
“It doesn’t have to be,” Eli says. “Not if you feel like you’re not ready.”
“I just... What if they don’t like me? Or what if I make a total ass out of myself like I did that first date with you?
I don’t... I don’t want to mess this up.”
“Well, I think you can rest easy. My mother has pretty much already adopted you.”
Peter gives Eli a smile that he can tell is forced.
“But nerves don’t have to be a bad thing. I think anyone in your position would feel the urge to impress, it’s a normal feeling.”
Eli recounts Rose’s own words.
“Yeah, maybe you’re right.” Eli sees Peter’s shoulders relax for the first time since he showed up at Peter’s door. “I just
want them to like me.”
“They will, trust me. Just be yourself.” Eli lets his hand fall from the bright yellow railing that runs through the entire
bus, reaching down to grab Peter’s hand and give it a soft squeeze. Peter looks at their hands, and then back at Eli. “Tonight’s
going to be fun.”
“Right, yeah.”
“Besides, I’m the one who should be nervous with the way my mom likes to tell any stranger she meets the most embarrassing
stories from when I was a baby.”
“Oh, really?”
Eli rolls his eyes. “And if I hear you’ve been going around and repeating them, don’t forget, I know where you live.”
Peter smiles at him, and this time, Eli can tell it’s the genuine article. “I’m shaking.”
The bus suddenly brakes, the driver laying on the horn. Eli lurches forward before he’s thrown back into Peter’s chest. Peter’s reaction is immediate, letting go of Eli’s hand and instead wrapping a strong arm around his waist, pulling him in close.
Too close.
Eli looks up at Peter, his heart beating a little faster thanks to being whipped around like a toy.
“You okay?” Peter asks him.
“Yeah.” Eli swallows. “Thanks.”
The moment passes, but Peter keeps his grip around Eli’s hips, holding Eli close to him. Eli knows he could say something,
pull away, grab onto the railing for himself. But there’s a safety here, a comfort that he isn’t quite willing to compromise
for the sake of his own sanity.
***
Starting in late October, the Union Square Ice Rink is open to anyone brave enough to stand outside long enough to get their
turn.
Ice-skating is one of those traditions that started in the Francis family well before Eli was even born, his parents spending
nearly all night on the ice together, spinning in front of the giant Christmas tree the city puts up in the middle of November.
Despite skating for nearly three decades, Eli is a total disaster on the ice. It was easier when he was a kid and he could
always use an ice walker. But his balance and center of gravity never seemed to improve, and the older he got, the more embarrassing
it was to skate with the assistance.
He’d even paid for private lessons once but left the rink when he realized the only other adults were parents there to watch
their kids.
Patricia never let him live that one down.
“Have you ever skated?” Eli asks Peter as they grab a pair of rental skates from the kiosk at the front of the park.
“Nope, you?”
“Yes, though you wouldn’t know it by watching me.”
Peter grins. “Oh, I can’t wait to see how this turns out.”
“You think you’re so funny, don’t you?” Eli asks sarcastically, tapping his card on the reader to complete the transaction. “So, okay... I know
that I told you not to be nervous on the bus.”
“And now you’re going to undo all the hard work I’ve done since we got off?”
“No, I swear. I just think I should warn you that my mother, she’s very...”
Eli can’t complete his sentence before there’s a cry from the other side of the park somehow cutting through the mass of people
between them and his parents.
“Eli!” His mother shouts, her hands high in the air.
“Excitable,” Eli finally gets out.
Rue rushes ahead of John and Les, racing toward Eli and Peter at a speed that almost makes Eli believe she could knock the
two of them over if she didn’t slow down.
“Oh, it’s so good to see you, my baby boy!” She wraps Eli in a tight hug.
“Yeah, Mom. It’s not like we just saw one another last week.”
“But this is different,” she tells him. “Tonight’s special!” Rue finally lets go of her son, all of her focus now intently
fixated on Peter. “And you must be the Peter I’ve been hearing so much about.”
“Oh, uh...” Peter stammers for a bit, wondering what to do with the skates in his hands. “Hi, Mrs.Francis... or, it’s
Clark, isn’t it? I’m so sorry.” Peter holds his hand out for her to take.
“Oh, honey. As far as I’m concerned you can call me ‘Mom.’” Rue ignores the invitation for a handshake, instead wrapping her
arms around Peter too, squeezing him even tighter than she’d squeezed Eli. He’s almost convinced that his mother could lift
Peter into the air if she wanted to.
“Mom, let him breathe, please,” Eli begs her.
“I’m sorry, I’m just so excited!” Rue squeezes Peter one last time before she finally lets him go.
Eli steps closer to Peter. “Told you she’d love you.”
Peter grunts, holding his side. “I think she broke a rib.”
Eli takes his hand, leading Peter toward the rest of his family. “This is John, my stepfather. And Les, my little sibling.”
“It’s nice to meet you, Peter!” John says, though through his accent, it comes out more as Peetah . “Oh!” John exclaims when he takes Peter’s free hand. “That’s quite a handshake.”
“Thank you, sir,” Peter says a little too quickly, his nerves on quiet display. “Hi, Les!”
In typical preteen fashion, Les can’t be bothered to acknowledge Peter.
Eli tightens his own grip on Peter’s hand, just as a reminder that neither of them are alone here. “Don’t take offense,” he
says.
Peter nods. “They’ll warm up to me.”
“You two already have your skates?” Rue asks.
“Yep.” Eli shows his mother.
“You’re going to skate?” Les snorts. “That’ll be a riot.”
“Hey, I don’t remember asking for your opinion.”
“Gave it anyway!” Les sticks their tongue out, and Eli, very maturely, sticks his out right back.
“We’ll meet you two at the entrance; go ahead and get your skates on,” Rue orders.
“Yes, ma’am!” Eli gives her a mock salute.
Rue gives her son a pssh! before waving him off. “You’re not funny.”
“See?” Eli sidles even closer to Peter, if that were possible. “Told you they aren’t so bad.”
“I guess so.” Peter’s shoulders seem to relax again, his pulse slowing.
“I promise, they’re pretty much ready to adopt you already. I’ll also apologize for any talk of marriage Mom brings up.”
“You think she’ll do that?” Peter’s voice goes a touch higher.
“Well, she asked Keith if he was going to marry me the second time they met, so I wouldn’t put it past her.”
“What did he say?” Peter dares to ask.
“I didn’t let him answer. I faked that my apartment burnt down.”
“Seems reasonable.” Peter laughs.
And Eli smiles at him, tugging Peter toward a row of benches that everyone has been using to switch out their shoes for their
skates. “Come on, it’s time for me to make a fool out of myself.”
“You can’t be that bad, can you?”
***
Eli is, in fact, that bad at ice-skating.
He can barely even make it from the bench to the actual rink, Peter having to offer a hand as they both slowly stumble toward
the ice, nearly getting knocked over by a group of children. Eventually, the two make it onto the ice, and it takes all of
five seconds before Eli falls hard on his ass.
“No laughing.” Eli points at Peter without even looking at him. “You’re not allowed to laugh.”
“I wasn’t going to,” Peter swears.
“Uh-huh...” Eli allows himself to be pulled into the air and back onto two feet, careful of his balance. At the very least,
he’s been doing this enough to master the art of standing on the ice, but the gravity of his body is constantly pushing him
forward.
And since Eli’s never learned how to turn or steer, he pretty much is set on an incredibly slow collision course for the rink
wall.
“Bend your knees, Eli!” John says as he skates by, his hand held in Rue’s.
“Thanks, John!”
Peter giggles, taking Eli’s hand and trying to lead him away from the wall. Peter doesn’t seem to be any more of an expert than Eli is, but he at least knows how to steer.
“How long have you been doing this again?”
“I said no jokes!” Eli reminds him.
“You said no laughing,” Peter corrects. “Not no jokes.”
“Jokes imply there will be laughing.”
“Not if you make a bad one.”
“Touché, Park.” Eli lets his grip tighten, allowing Peter to take the lead, their arms spread out. Eli watches as Les skates
circles around them, gliding on the ice. There are too many people on the rink to risk any fancy spins or flips, but Eli knows
exactly what they’re capable of.