Atmosphere(37)

At one hundred and thirty-two seconds after launch, the two rocket boosters fell away. Joan took a breath. By now the Columbia had likely reached over seventeen thousand miles an hour. Soon it would hit main engine cutoff. The external tank would fall away, too. As Joan waited for that moment, she realized she was still holding on to Vanessa.

She took her hand away.

“Sorry,” she said. “Got a little more scared there than I anticipated.”

Vanessa nodded and said nothing. Joan could not bring herself to look at her. Instead, she looked up again at the sky. She could barely see the shuttle anymore. Success was a white dot getting smaller and smaller.

They’d done it. They’d launched up into orbit.

There was nothing to be afraid of.

She felt so silly.



Joan was coming home with a bag of groceries—almost entirely cereals for Frances to try that weekend—when she saw Vanessa and Griff talking in the parking lot.

Vanessa was laughing at a joke Griff must have made. Joan was starting to wonder if Vanessa laughed that way with everyone.

“Hi,” she said.

They both turned and looked at her. “Hey,” Vanessa said. “I came by looking for you.”

Griff headed toward his car but pointed at Joan. “Are we still headed to Frenchie’s for dinner later?”

“Yeah, I’ll find you,” Joan said.

And then he was gone.

“You’re going to dinner together?” Vanessa asked.

Joan started walking toward the building, and Vanessa followed her.

“Yeah, why don’t you come?” Joan said.

Vanessa held the building door open for her. “No, thanks.”

“Uh-huh.”

“What’s that mean?” Vanessa had a smile on her face that Joan didn’t care for. “Uh-huh.”

“It means I knew you wouldn’t come,” Joan said, walking into her apartment. “But you really should. We’d have fun.”

“I wouldn’t want to interrupt your date,” Vanessa said, following her in.

“You know it’s not a date,” Joan said. “And you know calling it a date will get me nervous that he thinks it’s a date. You know exactly what you’re doing.”

“Are we fighting right now? Are you mad at me?” Vanessa asked, as if it thrilled her.

“Of course not.” Joan started putting the cereal boxes—all bright and covered in cartoon characters—into the cupboard. Vanessa reached into the bag and loaded the milk and fruit into the refrigerator. Joan watched as she paused to look at the sketch of Frances hanging on the refrigerator door. Vanessa took the magnet off it and held it for a moment.

“Is this Frances?”

Joan nodded.

“She’s beautiful.”

“She really is.”

Vanessa put the sketch back. “Griff does have a crush on you, though,” she said as she shut the refrigerator door.

“Would you stop it?”

“It’s obvious,” she said. “And why wouldn’t he? You’re smart and gorgeous and about ten other things.”

“So are you. Does he have a crush on you?”

“Joan, c’mon.”

Joan looked at her but did not say anything. Vanessa reached out and touched Joan’s shoulder. “Hey, I’m sorry I called it a date, okay?”

Joan looked away. “Thank you,” she said. “I’m sorry I’m sensitive.”

Vanessa jumped up and sat on the counter. “I’m probably looking to pick a fight.”

“Why? What happened?” Joan said, leaning against the opposite countertop.

Vanessa sighed. “Antonio’s going to tell us tomorrow that Lydia is being sent to Toronto to be the first of us to study the RMS.” This was the robotic arm that could be manipulated from inside the orbiter to deploy and control payloads. Operating it was one of the most important skills a mission specialist could be assigned.

“How do you know that?”

“Because he told Lydia last night,” Vanessa said. “And you know that smug little shit can’t keep anything a secret.”

“She probably looked quite self-satisfied.”

“She pretended she ‘hated to break it to me.’ I cannot stand her. I truly cannot stand her.”

“Well, look, we knew she was the favorite, right? And she’s not as bad as you’re making it out.”

“You’re the only one she’s halfway nice to.”

“I’m the only one who tries with her.”

“How am I supposed to try? If I caught fire, Lydia would consider whether she could use me to warm her hands before deciding to put the flames out.”

Joan laughed. “Well, you got me there . . . I think that’s probably true,” she admitted.

Vanessa laughed, her head thrown back. And Joan wished she hadn’t seen her laugh like that with other people. So that she could take more pride in eliciting the response now.

“But I do think,” Joan said, “that if we included her more she’d put your fire out faster.”

Vanessa squinted at her. “Are your parents divorced?”

“What? No, you know that.”

“I’m just wondering when you became a peacemaker.”