Atmosphere(95)

“Of course,” Joan said.

“I want to protect my team here. You did tell me once that you hold particularly special relationships with many of your fellow astronauts. I wonder if you would be willing to convey this to anyone within the corps who needs a reminder?”

“Yes, sir.”

“The loss of security clearances for any of our astronauts would be a devasting blow to the department and would reflect poorly on NASA as a whole,” he said. “And I am . . . well, Goodwin, I am hoping it never comes to that.”

“I understand, sir,” Joan said.

“Thank you,” Antonio said as he opened the door. “I would be very eager to recommend you for Mission Control, including any classified missions that lie ahead. I know you will ensure that you hold up to any such scrutiny.”

“Thank you, sir,” Joan said.

She picked Frances up from her first day back at school that afternoon, but could not remember anything else she did that day.


For two weeks, Joan pretended, with every cell in her brain, that she needed time to figure out a plan.

But she knew what she had to do.

Instead, she hid.

She dropped Frances off at school every morning and then scheduled as much time as she could flying. She took any meetings she could off campus. She made appointments to see two-bedroom apartments in Frances’s school district so that she and Frances could be moved in by the new year.

When the phone rang, she let Vanessa leave messages on her machine. And then she called Vanessa only when she knew she’d be out, and left messages on hers.

She took Frances to pick out a Christmas tree, to buy ornaments. The two of them decorated it together. As they did, Frances asked if Joan would be willing to talk to her class about going to space.

Joan was thrilled to be asked, thrilled by the idea of making Frances proud. “Of course!” she said. But she could not feel the joy she knew was in her.

She was numb to almost everything.

Except for those moments in the middle of the night, while Frances slept but Joan could not. It was only then that she gave in to the profound sorrow, and wept as quietly as she could.

She had known from the moment she’d left Antonio’s office what had to come next. And she could not bear it.

It had been easy to avoid Vanessa at first, because Vanessa’s schedule was incredibly intense. She was only weeks out from her mission. But then, as Vanessa got more insistent about seeing Joan before leaving, it suddenly wasn’t easy at all.

“So I’ll come over the night before I leave,” Vanessa said when Joan finally picked up the phone. “Because I have to see you both just one more time.”

“Right, of course,” Joan said.

“Is everything okay?” Vanessa asked.

“Yeah, everything’s great. We’re excited to see you,” Joan said as she found herself agreeing to what felt like her own execution.

That night, Vanessa cheerfully brought over a pizza and helped Frances with her homework as Joan’s heart raged in her chest.

Tomorrow morning, Hank, Griff, Lydia, Steve, and Vanessa would all fly to Cape Canaveral to begin preparations for their mission at the end of the month. Maybe this could wait until Vanessa came back.

The three of them played a game of Scrabble in which Joan could think of no good moves and Vanessa kept looking at her, confused.

“You didn’t notice you could put the q in ‘quit’ on the triple letter score?” she asked Joan.

“Oh,” Joan said. “Sorry.”

“Better for me!” Frances said, using Joan’s q to play “queue” with the rest of her tiles and win the whole thing.

“All right, babe,” Joan said. “Brush teeth, get your pajamas on, and I’ll be in to kiss you good night in a moment.”

Frances went into the bedroom.

“Okay, what’s going on?” Vanessa said.

“Hm?” Joan cleared the table. But as she walked by Vanessa, Vanessa took her arm.

“Joan, what is going on?” Vanessa said again.

“I’m not sure what you mean,” Joan said.

“Joanie!” Frances called out. “Can you help me roll out my bed?”

Joan went into the bedroom and set up the futon. She tucked her in and said good night.

When she shut the door behind herself, Vanessa was leaning against the kitchen counter, staring at her.

“Jo,” Vanessa said. “What is going on? I’m serious.”

Joan closed her eyes. When she opened them, her jaw was tight. “I think, with Frances here, this is not going to work,” she said finally.

The sound of the words coming out of her mouth shocked her, even though she had rehearsed them for days. She threw her head into her hands.

“What are you talking about?” Vanessa said.

“How are we going to do this?” Joan said. “I will never be able to spend the night at your house. You won’t be able to spend the night at mine. I think . . . it’s not realistic. Anymore. You and me.”

Vanessa tensed her jaw; her eyes went glassy, and Joan wanted to die.

Vanessa pursed her lips and nodded. “And when did you decide this?” she said.

“I’ve been thinking it since Thanksgiving,” Joan said.

“You’re lying,” Vanessa said.