Chapter Sixteen #2
Simon was irate, even when production was so behind schedule, they only had time for a single take.
Right now he’s watching his character learn that the mysterious passenger who altered the ship’s landing gear to avoid a fatal
crash is a teenage escapee from a prison colony, not a trained engineer. They’re both shouting, their dialogue overlapping,
but mingled in with the anger and frustration is a grudging mutual respect. Something crackles between them.
By the third episode, it occurs to Simon that maybe when the network said they wanted more Charlie, what they really wanted
was more Charlie and Simon. That’s what Lian gave them. That’s what audiences have been watching for seven years. When Lian said the show can’t stand
to lose both Simon and Alex, she wasn’t wrong. It’s a show about a crew. It’s a show about a family.
He’s always known that—about Out There, but also about pretty much every show he’s ever enjoyed. Out There is about people who belong together, or at least are stuck together, which is more or less the same thing. That’s how a certain
type of science fiction narrative works: you put people on a spaceship and it’s the emotional equivalent of a locked-room
murder mystery.
Halfway through the first season, there’s an episode—written and directed by Lian, so it’s all her fault—where Charlie’s and Simon’s characters are stranded on one of those ice planets that are apparently scattered across every fictional galaxy.
They’re stuck in a cave, fighting hypothermia, huddled together.
Maybe Lian thought a couple days of that and they’d stop bickering, that being forced together would work as some kind of
team building exercise. Instead it just infuriated them both. Charlie’s hair stuff gave Simon a headache. So did the smell
of alcohol layered under mouthwash. Simon’s constant complaining—always under his breath, generally about Charlie—made Charlie
red-faced and bad-tempered. It didn’t make them like one another, but by the end of that episode there’s something worn in
and comfortable about their dialogue. It’s the patter of people who are used to one another.
He texts Charlie, not to tell him any of that, but to make fun of his hair. “Why didn’t you have any hair until season 3?”
The response comes almost immediately.
Charlie: I was so bald
Charlie: I set the clippers too low and decided to own it
Simon: I’m not saying it didn’t work for you.
He’s two-thirds of the way through the first season before he realizes that he’s texting Charlie all day.
And Charlie’s texting him back. They are, basically, having a nonstop conversation about the show they’re both in, and it’s either the most narcissistic thing Simon’s done in his life or—just maybe—he’s processing this experience with the only person who could possibly understand.
He almost asks Charlie what he thinks about the show’s flagrant homoeroticism but can’t figure out how to phrase that without
asking if Charlie believes they’ve been playing out a love story all along.
Charlie: oh shit, we’re about to hit that episode
Simon hadn’t realized there was a we in this binge watching. But he knows what episode Charlie means. It’s the one with the dickhead guest director.
They skip it. Simon doesn’t want the reminder of the way that guy needled Samara and Alex that in retrospect seems more than
a little racist in addition to the obvious sexism. He doesn’t want the reminder of his failure to speak up. He doesn’t even
want to label what was wrong with what the guy said to him. Obviously it’s homophobic to tell a gay actor that he isn’t being
masculine enough for the role he’s already done for most of a season. But it’s also something else. Femmephobic? There’s nothing
about his character that’s ever needed to be masc. Nobody else ever said anything, but that asshole’s comments echoed in Simon’s
head for a while.
But if that director said bigoted things to Simon and Alex and Samara, he must have said something to Charlie.
Simon: you can tell me to shut up but did that guy ever say anything to you?
The dots appear and disappear, then reappear.
Charlie: just what you’d expect—trailer trash, amateur, etc.
Simon winces, because he’s definitely called Charlie an amateur, behind his back and to his face and muttered under his own
breath.
But that was a lot of typing and deleting for one sentence. It’s none of Simon’s business, but they’ve been making things
one another’s business since Arizona. Simon’s been trying to keep things friendly, neutral, light, to act like they didn’t
spend two days presenting one another with secrets like outdoor cats gently placing mangled rodents at one another’s feet.
Simon: did something else happen?
There’s a long pause before the dots even appear.
Charlie: He kind of kept messing with my shirt. I mean, costumes messes with our clothes all day and it’s fine. It’s not a thing.
But he kept adjusting it? Kind of gropily. The first twenty times I thought it was in my head.
Simon’s taken aback. Not, unfortunately, about a director getting handsy with the cast—that’s a tale as old as time. But that he hadn’t noticed.
Simon: I’m so sorry that happened to you
Simon: Really glad you fucked his car up
Charlie: It didn’t help that I was extremely not sober and not in a place to come up with ideal strategies for dealing with workplace
harassment or whatever
Simon: did Lian know?
Charlie: Only after the car incident. That’s why she didn’t get rid of me
Charlie apparently doesn’t want to talk about it anymore because he starts sending Simon sweaty gym selfies. Simon isn’t complaining.
By the end of the second season, he realizes he and Charlie have been watching Out There for four days. It’s basically the length of time they spent together in Arizona, but they’re doing it on opposite sides of
the country.
Charlie: this is my hottest season
Simon: no
Charlie: okay, tell me what IS my hottest season
Simon: also no
Charlie: your hottest season is this last one
Charlie: it’s the gray hair
Simon: blocking your number
Charlie: no shut up we’re getting to the space snakes now
This latest season is Charlie at his hottest to date, because he’s clearly on an upward trajectory. He has the features to
pull off some weathering.
Those first few seasons, Simon obviously knew Charlie was attractive, but it hadn’t really registered. Charlie had been twenty, twenty-one, young. Only in the last few years has Simon’s awareness of Charlie shifted, and even then, it happened gradually enough that Simon
could pretend it wasn’t happening.
The next episode is another alien diplomat love triangle. He wants to know who in the writers’ room got hurt by a diplomat.
It’s not the best episode, so he keeps one eye on the show and texts Charlie.
Simon: are you okay with Alex leaving?
Charlie: I’m happy for her
The response is immediate but doesn’t answer the question. Simon isn’t sure if he should press it. A friend would ask, even though Simon’s no good at being a friend, and even though friendship doesn’t fully explain whatever he and Charlie are.
Simon: but are YOU okay
Charlie: I knew it was coming. I’ll miss her but I really am happy for her
That still isn’t exactly an answer, but Simon gets it. He tries to imagine Jamie getting a job that meant they didn’t get
to see one another much. He’d miss Jamie but he’d be happy for him.
And now he feels like a fool because of course that’s how Jamie feels about Simon’s career. You can be happy for someone and also not feel great about yourself.
Charlie: are you gonna get mad if I ask you something
Simon: I mean, probably? But now you have to ask anyway
Charlie: are you okay? I thought you might be staying in NYC because you’re having fun but you’re on your couch all day
Simon could answer with a dishonest “yes” or a more honest “almost” but he doesn’t think that’s what Charlie’s asking.
Simon: did you ever read The Yellow Wallpaper?
Charlie: are any dragons in it? Because if not, you know the answer
Simon: ha
Simon: it’s about a woman in the 1800s who (supposedly) had some kind of mental episode and her doctor husband makes her stay in
the attic and not do anything as “treatment”
Simon: (but he’s totally just locking her up)
Simon: anyway, she has nothing to do but look at the yellow wallpaper (she loses her mind, obviously)
Simon: but when my anxiety’s really bad, I want nothing more than to be stored in an attic where nobody expects me to do anything
and I don’t have to interact with anybody
Simon: (to be clear, this is the worst take on literature anyone’s ever had)
Charlie’s quiet. Simon doesn’t know if that’s simply because everything he said was completely unhinged—which it was, that’s just factual—or if Charlie’s googling “The Yellow Wallpaper.”
Still, Simon got the basic facts out there: he’s dealing with some anxiety and this is just what he’s doing to feel better.
Look at that, actual communication.
Charlie: so, like, instead of yellow wallpaper it’s Out There. And instead of an attic it’s a furnished apartment in one of New York’s
nicer neighborhoods.
Simon: Yes, exactly. I’m probably going home next week. Rest cure: accomplished
But if he agrees to do another year of Out There, there’s no point in going home, because he’ll only be in California for a week before he has to fly back east for the upfronts.
Charlie: will you kill me if I tell you I was worried
Simon thinks Charlie already knows the answer, and that he wouldn’t have asked if he thought it would seriously bother Simon.
It does bother Simon, in that he’d prefer to pretend everyone in the world thinks he’s fine, but that ship has sailed. That
ship is at the bottom of the sea.
Simon: it’s objectively worrisome, so whatever