By the third episode, it occurs to Simon that maybe when the network said they wanted more Charlie, what they really wanted was more Charlieand 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—aboutOut There, but also about pretty much every show he’s ever enjoyed.Out Thereis 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 himback. 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 awein 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.
