Atmosphere(45)

Joan nodded, unsure what to say to that.

“So mind your own business.”

Joan looked past Barbara to where Frances was watching TV and playing with two of her dolls. She was laughing. She was completely fine. Right?

“I’m sorry,” Joan said. “You’re right.”

“Thank you,” Barbara said. “That’s very big of you. Thank you.”

Joan kissed Frances’s forehead on the way out. “I’ll see you soon. Okay, sweetheart?”

Frances nodded and said, “Yep. Bye, Joanie.”


July 1981


At the one-year mark of the ASCANs’ training, there was a camping trip at the lake. Astronauts, instructors, and the ASCANs and their families were all invited.

Joan had invited Frances to join her. When Joan arrived to pick her up, Frances was standing in the front yard with Barbara. She was wearing a fisherman’s vest and an adult-sized camping backpack.

Joan tried not to laugh as Frances’s body sank under the weight of it all.

“I can carry that, babe,” she said, taking the backpack off.

“I didn’t know what she’d need for camping,” Barbara said.

Joan held back a smile. “You did great. I’ve borrowed a tent from Harrison, who can’t go. And I have sleeping bags from when we would lie out under the stars at Brazos. So we are all set. But all of this is helpful, too.”

“It’s too much!” Frances exclaimed as she took off her vest and got into Joan’s front seat.

Barbara whispered so low that Joan had to lean in to hear her: “This is the sort of stuff I worry about. She doesn’t know how to camp. She doesn’t know any of this stuff. Without a father around.”

Joan was unsure of the details, but apparently Scott was already out of the picture. She’d heard as much from Frances.

“Oh, Barbara, she’ll be fine. Really.”

“I just don’t want her to miss out on anything, or feel left behind,” Barbara said.

“Hey, you and me, we got her, all right?” Joan said. “We always have, always will.”

Barbara nodded. “Yeah, and maybe Dad should fly out more, spend more time with her.”

“I think that’s a great idea—I think both Mom and Dad would love that.”

Barbara waved goodbye to Frances and then made her put down her window so she could give her a kiss. “Don’t roll your eyes,” Barbara said. “I have given up my entire life to raise you. You can give me one damn kiss.”

“Sorry, Mom,” Frances said. She kissed Barbara on the cheek and then said, to both Barbara and Joan, “Can we go now?”


Donna and Joan set up Joan’s tent while Lydia set up her own. Most of the kids were playing nearby, while others were on the fishing dock. Frances had already run off with Duke and Kris’s oldest daughter, Julie, and Steve and Helene’s eleven-year-old, Patty. Patty was teaching the younger girls how to stain rocks by crushing flower petals on them.

As Joan pressed a stake into the ground, she tried to pretend she didn’t hear Vanessa’s voice behind her, coming up from the parking lot. Vanessa was with Steve, unloading food from the back of Duke’s truck. Joan could not bring herself to turn and look at her. For the past few weeks, Joan had not been able to look Vanessa in the eye.

“You need to shove that stake in more or this whole thing’s gonna blow over with a fart,” Donna said.

Joan rolled her eyes and stomped on the stake, driving it farther into the ground.

“Thanks for the tip.”

“You’re lucky I love you and put up with all your half-assed tent making,” Donna said.

“You’re lucky I love you and put up with your foul mouth.”

Donna considered Joan’s comment. “Yes, I suppose I am.”

They finished just as Lydia’s tent fell over.

“Come on,” Joan said.

Donna sighed. “Do I have to help her?”

“Yes.”

“Even though she lobbied for more time on the RMS so badly that they pulled me off to give it to her?”

“If you’re not gonna help her, I’ll do it myself.”

“Well, you aren’t gonna do shit,” Donna said, marching ahead of her. “You barely put up your own.”

When they approached Lydia, she said, “I’ve got it. Don’t touch it!”

Donna shot a look at Joan.

“Lydia, let us help you,” Joan said.

“Just give me some space to move—jeez.”

“Hey, how many chicks does it take to pitch a tent?” Marty said. Jimmy was with him, already laughing before Marty even delivered the punch line.

Joan closed her eyes, her chest rising. Donna shook her head.

“Doesn’t matter! Any of you can pitch my tent!” Marty said.

Lydia cracked up and gave Marty a low five.

“Just fuck off, Marty,” Donna said.

Jimmy muttered, “So touchy,” and then he and Marty walked on.

When they were out of earshot, Joan turned to Lydia. “Why do you do that?”

“Do what?”

“Laugh at those stupid jokes. I hate it when you encourage them.”

“I think maybe you just need to lighten up.”