Chapter 30
Thirty
simpatico (adj.): having shared attributes or interests; compatible
“You’ll sit here.” My son, who has apparently appointed himself host for this evening, directs Wyatt to my thrifted mid-century armchair.
“Mom always sits there,” he adds matter-of-factly, pointing to the right end of the sofa.
“And I sit”—Chase plops down in his usual spot at the left end of the sofa—“here.”
“Thank you, Chase.” Privately Wyatt shoots me an amused look, and I return one that’s gently apologetic. The poor guy barely crossed the threshold with his tray of hot drinks before Chase started in with all this stage direction. I’m just going to go with it.
At my raised brow, Chase knows what I’m about to ask. “I already finished my homework,” he says. “So we can start watching any time. Season 2, episode 20.”
“Chocolate chai for the lady of the house,” Wyatt says, handing me a cup of warmth that smells divine. “The no-caffeine version.” He turns to Chase. “And I hope you like hot chocolate.”
“Obviously. All kids like hot chocolate.”
“Obviously,” Wyatt says, and again I get to enjoy the way Wyatt quirks his mouth when he’s amused. The man possesses a whole arsenal of great smiles, but this one . . . this might top them all.
“So, Chase,” he says, settling into his assigned seat, “I hear you’re working on putting together a forestry expert costume. Are you thinking about becoming a forestry expert yourself?”
“Of course,” Chase says.
“Right. Who wouldn’t? ’Cause trees are so cool.”
“Pine trees especially.”
Wyatt shifts to face my son. “What is it you like about pine trees?”
“Well, there are one hundred and nineteen species. My favorites are bristlecone and ponderosa.”
“Why is that?”
“Well, the oldest tree in the whole world is a Great Basin bristlecone. They can live for, like, thousands of years. Like . . . thousands. Have you heard of Methuselah?”
“In the Bible?”
“No, the tree named Methuselah. It’s practically five thousand years old. So that means it was growing when the Egyptians were building the pyramids.”
“Incredible.”
“Obviously it’s incredible. And experts found one that’s even older, but they’re keeping its location secret.”
“That would be cool to see.”
“They’re in California.”
“The world’s oldest trees are in California? What about Oregon?”
“The oldest tree in Oregon is in the Wallowa Mountains. You’d have to hike a huge mountain.”
“Oh, yeah? Hmm, well . . .” Wyatt gives Chase a quick once-over. “You look strong enough.”
The corners of Chase’s mouth tip up. “My mom says I’m strong for my age,” he says, dropping to his knees in front of the TV stand. “I’ll cue up season 2, episode 20. Obviously, Mister Lieutenant Wyatt—”
“I’d like it if you called me Wyatt.”
“Obviously, if you want to watch all the seasons, you have to have a subscription.”
“Obviously.”
Thirty minutes later, Captain Kirk, Spock, and a random female crew member with a 1960s bouffant find themselves again on an alien planet, again in mortal danger. Chase pauses the episode to question the crew’s wisdom in allowing the aliens to inhabit their bodies.
Wyatt carries his end of the conversation admirably. He’s surprisingly comfortable with my son.
I have to wonder why.
As soon as the closing theme plays and credits roll, Chase asks if we can watch another episode. “That one was weird,” he says. “TMK.”
“Too much kissing,” I explain to Wyatt.
My son isn’t wrong, and I’m glad he called out the awkward elephant in the room by stating it. Definitely not the best episode choice for . . . mixed company.
Wyatt snickers. “I’m with you, Chase. It’s kind of lame when there’s too much kissing.” Fleetingly, his gaze and mine connect. How many times, exactly, do we need to use the word kissing?
“Sorry, buddy,” I tell Chase. “School night. But we can knock out a couple on Friday night if you want.” I explain to Wyatt about the timeline Chase created, including projections of how long it will take to watch every Star Trek series.
Chase briefly disappears into his room before returning with the schedule and a pen. “See, look,” he says to Wyatt. “If we keep watching four episodes a week, we’ll finish the original Star Trek series by December sixth.”
“You check them off as you go?”
Chase nods. “Here,” he says, handing Wyatt the pen. “You can check off episode 20 if you want.”
“I get to check it off?”
“Obviously. Just check it off right there.”
Wyatt chuckles. “Okay. So what comes next after the original series?”
“Chronologically, next is Star Trek: The Animated Series. But there’s only two seasons of that one, and each episode is only twenty-four minutes each, so . . .”
“So that’ll go pretty quick,” Wyatt supplies. “How many series are there? I bet I’ve missed some over the years.”
“Thirteen.”
Wyatt’s eyebrows shoot up. “Red alert. I’ve definitely missed some. And how many movies?”
“Fourteen.”
Wyatt squints. “And will you watch those too?”
“I don’t know. If Mom lets me, maybe I’ll watch them when I’m in high school. But some of them have scorching reviews.”
“Well, young man, I am impressed. You are boldly going where only die-hard Trekkies dare to go.”
Chase stands erect, lifts his chin, and glues his arms to his sides, as if someone just pinned him with the highest military award an almost-nine-year-old can achieve. He marches in the direction of his bedroom.
“Honey,” I say, “do you want to say anything to us before you go to bed?”
“Oh, yeah. Good night, Mom.”
I drop a kiss on his head.
“Good night, Mister Wy—I mean, Wyatt.”
“Good night, Chase. And thank you for the invitation. This has been super cool. Very informative too.”
Once I hear the sounds of water running and Chase brushing his teeth down the hall, I read the room. Wyatt’s gazing through the sliding glass door into the night.
“You have quite a view,” he says, and I take this to mean he isn’t in any hurry to leave.
“Have at it. I’ll make tea and join you in a few minutes, if it’s not too cold out there.”
Wyatt’s surveying the place. “Where do you hide Smitty?”
Chuckling, I point him down the hall. “Second bedroom on the left.”
“May I try it out?”
“Knock yourself out,” I say, filling the electric kettle. “I’ll just check on Chase.”