I smile. “How are you?” I ask.
She says, “Not bored.”
She looks back up. She steps forward. She inhales the moment.
She says, “I want to be this forever.”
Hey, Siri, I’m thinking of Kathi and happiness and adventure and health and long lives together.
I say, “I want to be this forever, too.”
Part Three
PEQUOD
19
I’m leaving Reid.
Sweaty and handsome, he sits across from me at our post-workout breakfast spot, Simple Things, famous for ultra-healthy dishes served with slices of pie.
“I’m going to miss you,” I say. Reid nods, I know.
Kathi and I are leaving soon to go on a gay cruise. She’s the secret special guest, capitalizing on her iconic status with the gay community. This insane excursion pays well, of course—gays with their economic clout. She’s getting tens of thousands of dollars to perform a show, talking about her life and maybe answering questions. Reid and I are having our final bite together before Kathi and I set sail.
“I got you something,” Reid says. He reaches into the pocket of his hoodie and pulls out a small gift, wrapped in mini-golf-themed wrapping paper with a little blue bow.
“I can’t marry you! It’s too soon!” I say playfully, taking the beautifully presented gift and wondering what’s going on. Reid smiles at my genuine surprise. I’m usually the gift giver; I’m usually the thoughtful one in the room. How strange it feels to have the tables turned, with so many tables seemingly turning—delightfully—these days.
I open the gift carefully, untying the bow and letting it fall to the floor. Plucking the tape from the folded sides. Pulling the paper apart to reveal what’s inside. There, in my hands, is a toy, the toy, the one I was not allowed to play with all those years ago. It’s her, the action figure of Priestess Talara, with her white gown and laser gun and eerily familiar face. I stare into her eyes. I’m thinking, Hello, friend.
“I thought it would be nice,” Reid says, “for you to finally have it, to finally have her back. I mean, this isn’t the actual one your dad took from you. I got this one on eBay.”
I look from Priestess Talara, from young Kathi Kannon, to Reid, and I realize my mouth is hanging open. This little heroine, the so-called danger my father tried to protect me from all those years ago, the plastic toy that I longed for all my childhood, now seeming fragile, smaller than I remember, resting lifeless in the palm of my hand, accessible, whole. Here in my grasp, she looks so contained and manageable and feels like a part of me, an extension of my life, and as my eyes water and my mind races, my heart is full for both Priestess Talara of my childhood and Kathi Kannon of my every day.
I look at Reid. I say, “Thank you.”
I say, “I love it.”
I say, “I love you.”
* * *
“We have to leave in fifteen minutes,” I remind Kathi, again. Me, travel-nervous as usual, sweating as I double-check her antique trunk suitcases. Scarves, Christmas lights, inflatable life jackets—check, check, check.
Hey, Siri, I hope we survive Orlando.
Kathi is pacing, weary and unsure, Roy by her side as always.
“Cockring, did you call me last night and warn me about going on this gay cruise? That it’s going to be dangerous? Not to go? And then I said I had to go anyway because I want the money and relevance?”
“No, that didn’t happen,” I say. “Are you okay? What are you talking about?”
She says, “Nothing.”
Pardon us at LAX!
Make way at ORD!
We arrive just in time to pose for a picture with Roy under a sign for an antidepressant, which says: HAPPINESS IS A JOURNEY THAT STARTS WHEN YOU’RE A BABY.
“Asinine,” Kathi says.
We haul ourselves and her luggage onto the boat. I’ve got her bag, I’ve got Roy’s bag, I’ve got my bag. All that, this trip, it’s all starting to feel very heavy.
The ship sets sail, undocked, unmoored. We wander; we shop. The boat has everything: a jewelry store, a bakery, a Rite Aid. Kathi attends an AA meeting (they have everything).
I’ve never seen water so blue, beaches so white, and penises so aplenty. Dicks are flopping in every direction the entire trip—men wearing mesh shorts, see-through Speedos, sunbathing nude on their balconies, in hallways, in cafés. Every morning at ten A.M., the intercoms in the rooms and hallways announce the day’s activities and a reminder not to have sex in the steam room.
We have a day until Kathi’s show and we kill the time the best we know how—lying around. It’s a lazy four in the afternoon and Kathi is painting her fingernails on a lounge chair when her phone starts to vibrate, startling her. “Fuck!” she yells, flinching and causing a little streak of blue glitter nail polish to smear across her finger and onto a fine white linen throw pillow on the chair. “Oh, shit! I just ruined the fucking pillow, Cockring!”
A few hot gays look over at us, but we’re far from the pool, just on the deck getting some fresh air—or it was fresh before Kathi started painting her nails.
She tries to steal a glance at the phone screen but can’t make it out. “Who’s calling us, Cockring?”
I stand and crane over and read the phone. “Studio Assistant.”
“WHAT?!” Kathi yells. “FUCK SHIT COCK!” She flips her hands over and wipes all the polish off of her fingers onto the pillow.
“What? What? Who is Studio Assistant?” I ask.
“My fucking life!” she yells, jumping up and grabbing the phone. Wide-eyed, she answers. “Hello,” she says calmly. “Yes. Yes. Yes. Fine. Thank you.”
She takes a step away from me, and I follow her. I’m studying her, wondering what the hell is going on.
“Okay, love,” she says. “I’ll be waiting. Bye.” Kathi hands me her phone.
“What?! What?! Good news?!” I ask, checking that the call is ended.
Kathi looks around to make sure none of the other cruise-goers are nearby. She grabs my shoulders, pulling me toward her so she can whisper in my ear, “I can’t say a word about it.”
She lets go of my shoulders and I stand up straight. I’m about to say I understand, but then she pulls me right back down again.
“They’re fucking doing a new Nova Quest film and we’re gonna be a fucking star again!” she says, jumping up and down. I mirror her motion, feel her excitement and my own for the continuation of this saga, a literal dream come true for me and other fans—and, apparently, Kathi Kannon—not to mention I get to witness it: the filming, the creating, having a tiny stake in a cultural landmark.
“Really? Who was that on the phone? Who is Studio Assistant?” I ask.
“The head of Sony or one of them—I can’t keep up. They called years ago and I guess someone saved the number. I don’t know, maybe I saved it, who am I? I don’t know. Oh, my God! They’re doing it!”
The original Nova Quest ends with Priestess Talara sitting quietly and alone in a large war room. Hologram monitors blink and swirl around her, showing maps and strategy and bright lights marking locations where individual battles were won. Priestess Talara sobs on her throne, overlooking the empty space, haloed by the massive window behind her. Her chair spins around and she looks out at her planet, green trees and blue lagoons visible under plumes of smoke left over after the war’s end. Lives were lost, scars need time to heal, but the film’s final shot is of Priestess Talara looking out at her world, her life, and her face is still for a few moments, international audiences wondering what’s next, and she smiles. Cut to the theme music blaring and the credits rolling and everyone watching feeling a surge of hope for whatever may come next in her life, their life, the life of the world. That moment was first gifted in theaters three decades ago. In all that time since, fans have had to wonder what came next. And now, it appears, we’ll finally find out.