Atmosphere(76)

“That it’s not about you,” Joan said. “Choices like this are dictated by what is best for the mission, not the individual. And if you’re asking my advice, I think that’s where you sometimes go wrong. You’re not smarter or harder working than anyone here. Yes, you’re brilliant and driven, but you’re surrounded by people who are just as brilliant and just as driven. You’re not better than anyone on this crew. You cannot be. And you cannot want to be. If you are, you won’t be prepared to do the hard stuff, if you’re too worried about whether you’re winning some imaginary race. It’s about the collective, not the individual.”

Lydia closed her eyes and nodded. She did not speak for quite some time.

“You’re saying be less American, be more Soviet.”

Joan laughed. “I absolutely did not say that!”

“Yeah,” Lydia said, laughing. “You did. I’m going to tell everyone you said I needed to be more Soviet in my mentality, and you’re gonna get kicked off LR7 for being unfit to serve and I’m gonna get your spot. I finally figured it out.”

Joan was still laughing when Lydia stood up. “This is so much easier than I thought! I don’t have to learn anything!”

Joan stood up too and then, without thinking, walked over to Lydia and hugged her.

“What is happening?”

“I’m hugging you.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know.”

Lydia didn’t pull away. She relaxed into it. “I hate this.”


Fall 1983


That fall, Frances took up ballet, and Barbara and Daniel began throwing Sunday night get-togethers for the neighborhood at Daniel’s house.

Which was why this Sunday afternoon, Joan and Barbara were at the grocery store across from the children’s ballet center, picking up cocktail mixers and ice.

“You know, Daniel and I just decided that as exhausting as it is to host so many people, we have to make a point to do this every week,” Barbara said to Joan in the beverage aisle. “It’s come to mean a lot to the neighbors.”

Joan smiled and nodded. Barbara was already rewriting her place in the world, but Joan had to admit that she was touched to see that Frances had made a friend on the block.

Joan grabbed the grapefruit juice Barbara had asked for and put it in the cart as Barbara picked up bottles of soda. “It’s so funny because a lot of the neighbors are angling for an invite to the wedding, but we’ve had to say it’s a little late for that!”

“Oh,” Joan said, rearranging things in the cart so the bottles didn’t roll. “I meant to tell you that I haven’t gotten my invitation yet.”

Barbara pushed the cart forward. “Sorry about that. The invitations are very expensive, and I didn’t think you needed one because I talk to you every day.”

“Oh,” Joan said. “All right.”

“You’ll need to be at the church at noon for makeup. I put you down for the chicken, not the fish, because you hate halibut . . .”

“Thank you.”

“And you don’t have a guest, obviously. Just you.”

“I can’t bring a guest?” Joan said. “I’m the maid of honor.”

Barbara cocked her head at Joan. “You haven’t been on a date in twenty years.”

Joan stared at her. “I’m not allowed to want company?”

“Who would you bring?” Barbara laughed as she grabbed a bag of ice. “You’re just going to sit with Mom and Dad all night.”

Barbara put the ice in the cart and started walking to the register. Joan followed her, each step growing heavier.

“I am not just going to sit with Mom and Dad all night,” Joan said.

“Do you have any male friends?”

“I have friends, Barb. What do you take me for?”

“You have a man you want to bring to my wedding?”

“Yes, maybe,” Joan said. “Or I could bring a girlfriend. Someone to have fun with.”

“You want to bring a woman as your date?”

Joan felt her shoulders tense, her gut turn.

“What you’re asking is not only preposterous, it’s also tacky,” Barbara said. She walked up to the cash register and then leaned in and whispered to Joan: “You do realize bringing a woman as your date will make you look like a . . . you know . . .”

Barbara smiled as if this was hilarious, and then turned her attention to the cart. She unloaded the groceries onto the conveyor belt and made small talk with the cashier.

Joan simply stood there, staring at her, wondering how it was so easy for Barbara to stick a knife in someone and then carry on with the mundanity of her day. She did not move until Barbara stared back at her with all the groceries packed in bags and in the cart. “Joan, what are you doing? Let’s go.”

They picked up Frances from ballet. Joan could not look at her sister the entire way home.

When they got back to Daniel’s house, Frances ran into the family room to watch TV. Daniel was in the kitchen, grabbing things for the grill.

“Good trip?” he said.

“We got everything we went for,” Barbara said. “But somebody got a little touchy about not having a guest at the wedding.”