The Day Before
Thanksgiving 1984
“Joanie, I saw your landing in California. I was so happy to see that you got home okay. I know it’s safe to go up there, but I just feel better knowing you’re home. I love you.”
“Joanie, I thought maybe you’d be back by now, back home I mean.
Maybe I could call you on Thanksgiving Day, if you’re around.”
“Hey Joanie, it’s me again. Sorry for calling so much. I think I’m just . . . can you call me back? I—”
While The rest of the crew needed some time to acclimate to the hard ground under their feet, it took Joan no time at all to readjust to the pull of gravity.
But when she stepped foot in her apartment that first morning back, something felt off. It was as if she’d come home to her childhood bedroom or tried to drive the old sedan she had in college. They had been hers, yes. But they belonged to a version of her that she’d grown out of.
It wasn’t until she hit the answering machine and heard Frances’s voice that she finally felt truly grounded again.
Before Joan had even finished listening to the third message, she’d grabbed the phone and dialed Frances’s dormitory. It rang for so long.
“Hello?”
“Frances?”
“Joanie?”
“You picked up!” Joan said.
“Yeah, I’m the only one in the hall.”
“You’re the only one there?” Joan asked. “Your mom said lots of kids are staying at school for Thanksgiving. She said there was a whole big to-do
there in the cafeteria.”
“Um . . .”
Joan could hear Frances’s voice start to waver. “They do have it every year. But none of the other kids stayed. It’s just me.”
“What do you mean, it’s just you?”
“It’s just me and Ms. Green. But she’s very nice. And she’s not my teacher, so it’s not like I’m in class or anything. We are going to meet up at three tomorrow to have turkey sandwiches.”
“You’re kidding me.”
“No, but it’s okay, it’s okay,” Frances said, her voice so upbeat that it betrayed her. “She said they have cranberry sauce in them.”
“Franny . . .”
“I’m fine, Joanie.”
Then Frances burst into tears.
“Babe, I’m coming.”
“No, you don’t have to.”
“Frances,” Joan said, her voice stern. “I’m coming to get you, and I’m taking you home.”
Frances was quiet for a moment and then, finally, said in barely more than a whisper, “Okay.”
“Listen to me,” Joan said. “I was circling two hundred miles above the Earth, and all I wanted was to get home and see you. Do you understand that?
Do you understand that I don’t care how big or small this world is, that you are the center of mine? Do you understand that, to someone, you are everything that matters on this entire planet?”
“Okay,” Frances said again. This time Joan could hear the lump in her throat.
When Frances was younger, her problems had been tough but simple. She couldn’t sleep. She cut her lip. She couldn’t write uppercase B’s.
But Frances was ten years old now, a few months into sixth grade. Her problems were heavier and darker. Joan couldn’t fix them with a sweet word or a joke or some ice. To hear Frances alone and crying so far away, it made Joan feel absolutely helpless. And she could not live with that.
“I will be there in less than four hours. Pack your stuff.”
“I can’t leave without Mom signing me out.”
Joan sighed. “Goddammit.”
“I’m sorry.”
“It’s not you.”
Joan considered the situation. “Okay, it might take me a bit longer. But I’ll be there. Have your stuff packed.”
“Okay,” Frances said. And then: “Joanie?”
“Yeah?”
“I love you.”
“I love you, too, babe. More than you will ever know.”
Joan’s ears were ringing as she knocked on Barbara’s front door with the side of her fist, pounding so hard she shook the windowpanes.
“Jesus, Joan,” Barbara said when she came to the door.
“Barbara, I swear to God . . .”
Barbara rolled her eyes. “I assume she’s performed some sob story for you?”
“You said she wanted to stay there with a bunch of other kids.”
Barbara left the door open and walked back into the house. Joan followed
her.
“Joan, what do you want from me?”
“Where’s Daniel?”
“He’s picking up the traveler’s checks.”
“What are you thinking, running off to Europe? Don’t do this. Let Frances come home.”
Barbara inhaled and then shook her head. “No.”
“She’s having Thanksgiving with a teacher. They are eating club sandwiches.”
“They are eating turkey sandwiches with cranberry sauce. But there the two of you go, making it seem worse than it is. She’s being a manipulative brat. And I’m surprised you’re falling for it. But you always do. You’re such a mark, Joan, honestly.”
Joan could not control the ferocity that came out of her. “What is the
matter with you?” she yelled.
“What do you want from me?” Barbara shouted.
“I want you to take care of your daughter!”
“I am! She has a roof over her head and food to eat and a good education!”
“She’s alone!”
“Joan, what am I supposed to do? Daniel has never wanted kids, but he said he was happy to try to be a stepdad. And he tried. He really tried. She made it impossible!”
“Why would you marry a man who doesn’t want kids? You have a kid!”
“I am doing my best! Before I met Daniel, I spent most nights crying myself to sleep because I was so lonely and so tired. Do you know how hard it was just trying to take care of her and make enough money to keep us eating canned beans? You think this world is easy on a single mother with no
college degree?”
“I could have lent you money.”
“I didn’t want your money! I wanted a life! I want a life with a man who loves me and pays the bills and provides a beautiful home and makes sure my kid gets an incredible education so that she never ends up like me! That’s what I want, Joan! I don’t want your charity.”
“And so that’s it? You’re shipping her off—and she’s never allowed to come home—because you picked a guy who doesn’t know how to deal with her?”
“I don’t know how to deal with her! She’s insufferable!”
“She’s hurting!”
“Well, I don’t want to deal with her anymore!”
Joan pulled back. Barbara blinked a few times and then she sank down on the sofa and sobbed. Joan stared at her, shocked that she had the audacity to cry.
Joan marveled at how easy Barbara’s inner life must be. How entirely undemanding of yourself it was to believe that everything happened to you.
And everything was about you. And that your feelings were the only ones that mattered. Worse yet, to afford yourself the role of the victim always— regardless of how grotesquely it required you to twist reality—so that you never had to look in the mirror and admit you were the perpetrator.
“She’s your daughter,” Joan said, finally.
“I know,” Barbara said as she continued to cry. She buried her face in her hands. Joan refused to comfort her.
“You are going to find a way to fix it,” Joan said.
“I can’t. Daniel doesn’t want her here after the way she’s acted.”
“Well, tell him that’s not realistic. Even if she stays at school the rest of the semester, what are you going to do? Not have her come home at Christmas?”
Barbara pulled a tissue from her pocket to dry her eyes. “Daniel wants to
stay in Europe for a little while.”
“What?”
“Copenhagen for Christmas, Paris for New Year’s. He has a few meetings in London at the top of the year, so we’d stay until then.”
Joan dropped her head. She was so stupid. So incredibly stupid not to see what had really been going on. But it was hard to admit just how low your own sister could go. Joan’s own moral code had felt so innate as to be genetic, intrinsic to the DNA they both shared. And perhaps that’s why, until now, she had been unable to see just how little they had in common. “What
kind of meetings?” Joan said finally.
“What?”
“What kind of meetings does he have in London, Barbara?”
Barbara looked away. “They are transferring him there. In the spring.”
Joan shook her head and then closed her eyes. She stared at darkness and then opened her eyes and her mouth at the same time. “Please tell me you’re
making this up.”
“I’m not.”
“What is your plan?”
“I don’t know.”
“I will not let you abandon her. What is your plan?”
“She’s at boarding school, Joan. For crying out loud, no one has abandoned her.”
“She’s crying. Alone up there. She thinks no one loves her.”
Barbara shook her head in her hands. “Of course I love her.” She began to howl in tears.
“If you love your daughter, then you need to show her. By taking care of her,” Joan said. “There is no other option.”
Barbara stood up and snapped, “It’s not that simple!”
“Yes, it is!”
“It’s not! I’ve been doing it on my own since I was twenty years old, and I’m sick of being treated like some sort of screwup because I’m trying to create a life out of this mess!”
“She’s not a mess! Stop talking about her like that!”
“She’s my daughter, I can say anything I like about her!”
“I’m not sure you ever deserved her, you know that? I’ve tried to avoid thinking that for years, but I don’t know what other conclusion to draw anymore. She deserves better than you give her.”
“Then take her!” Barbara said. “You think you’re so fucking smart, Joan.
Oh, the mom you’d be! If only you had a love life or a man interested in you enough to give you a child. Please. You take care of her. The two of you would probably love that.”
“Barbara, don’t say things like that. This is not a game.”
But it was a game, wasn’t it? And Barbara had been winning for a very, very long time.
“I mean it!” Barbara said. “She has never liked me as much as she likes you. The two of you, with your special bond. You can have each other, as far as I’m concerned. You can go be happy together, without me to look down on.”
“She doesn’t look down on you. She worships you.”
Barbara laughed and shook her head. “She hates me. She thinks I’m a selfish fool, just like you do, and she makes it perfectly clear. Oh, you’ll see, Joan. Once she’s really yours. It’s no picnic. She hates me. One day she’ll hate you, too. You’ll finally see it then. And it will be too late, because I won’t accept your apology. But in the meantime, go for it. She’s all yours.”
Joan stared at her. But Barbara’s face did not seem sad or angry so much as unflinching. Her eyes had gone dead.
This was Barbara’s whole plan. Joan was her get-out-of-jail-free card.
“You are seriously going to let this child be alone on Thanksgiving?”
“I am going to let her learn that it’s not always about her and that it’s time
that my life starts, too. Yes, I am. But you seem to want to be her mother, so go right ahead.”
Part of Joan felt like she could not give Barbara the satisfaction. She was going to abandon her child and flit off to Europe, leaving Joan to handle all of the responsibilities. Joan shouldn’t participate in that.
But Frances deserved better than anything she could make Barbara begrudgingly give her. Frances needed someone to truly care and to show it.
Someone to be there.
In that moment, all Joan could think of was the joy of having Frances back.
Of getting to spend each evening helping her with her homework. Of taking her to the movies each weekend. Of seizing those rare times when Frances would still let Joan kiss the top of her head.
Joan would do anything to get more of those moments. They were already slipping away so fast.
She would never let that go—never let Frances down—just to teach Barbara a lesson.
“Write a letter to the school giving me the power to make decisions for her and take her from the school,” Joan said. “Do it now.”
“You think I don’t mean it? Because I will do it.”
“Do it, Barbara! Now!”
Barbara went into the kitchen and scribbled on a piece of stationery with Daniel’s name at the top. Then she handed it to Joan. “I don’t want to see either of you before I go,” she said. “She threw a tantrum. And you played right into it.”
“You will call her tomorrow to wish her a happy Thanksgiving from the airport. If you don’t, I will call your hotel every hour on the hour until you get on the phone. Do you hear me? I think we both know Daniel won’t be happy with you if this gets messy. So if I were you, I’d call before noon and I’d stay on the phone for ten minutes and I’d make it count.”
“Thanks, Joan. Thanks for treating me like I wouldn’t call my own daughter on Thanksgiving. Wow, I’m such a monster.”
“I think that maybe you are a monster,” Joan said. And then she slammed the door so hard that it bounced back open. She did not look back.
When Joan got to the school, Frances was sitting in the lobby of her dormitory with a woman who looked to be in her late twenties.
“Hi,” Joan said as Frances stood up and smiled.
“You must be Joan,” the woman said. “We are all very big fans of you and everything you do. I suspect our physics teacher, Marlon Ryan, will be sad to have missed the chance to make your acquaintance. It is a true pleasure to meet you.”
“Oh, thank you. I appreciate that. I’m assuming you’re Ms. Green?”
“Indeed.”
“Well, I would love to take Frances home,” Joan said as she handed over the note.
Ms. Green looked it over. “Okay,” she said and then she turned to Frances.
“Happy Thanksgiving, Frances. We will see you Monday.”
“Um,” Joan said. “No, you won’t.”
“What?” Frances said.
“We will talk about it in the car,” Joan said to Frances. “But for now, let’s pack up your things. Not just for the weekend.”
They went to Frances’s room. Joan was taken with how neat everything was on Frances’s side. She’d made her bed with sharp corners, and her books were lined up on her desk at right angles.
Joan looked at Frances. “Do you have any duffel bags we can use?”
Frances nodded and grabbed three bags and a box from under her bed.
“Great, you pack your clothes. I’ll get your pillow and blankets.”
When they were done, Frances asked if she should bring her books and Joan said no. “But your mom said you won an essay contest.”
“Yeah,” Frances said. “I did.”
“Do you have the essay? Is it here?”
“Um, yeah,” Frances said.
“Well, we can’t leave that behind. Grab it.”
“Okay . . .” Frances pulled a drawer open and took a few pages out and tucked them into the open bag in her hand.
“All right, kiddo,” Joan said. “T minus zero. We’re outta here.”
And Frances laughed. It felt so good to make her smile.
“That was so cheesy, Joanie.”
On the way home, Joan and Frances stopped at a diner and split a peanut butter and jelly sandwich and a strawberry milkshake.
It was almost nine at night by that point. Frances looked tired. Her eyes were red, the skin around them puffy. Her lips were chapped. Joan wanted to hug her but worried that if she did, she herself might fall apart. Returning to Earth was exhausting.
There was an ache in Joan’s chest looking at Frances.
But there was also a sadness that Joan could not name. A disappointment, perhaps. Maybe a reckoning. Certainly a recognition. She had tried so hard to have faith in Barbara. Now it was clear that Barbara was never going to put in much effort to be worthy of her faith.
Barbara had shown who she was. If Joan continued to not see it, well, that would be Joan’s fault.
“Listen, babe,” Joan said, over a plate of french fries that neither of them were eating. “Some stuff has happened.”
“I figured, since you said I’m not going back to school.”
“Your mom and I talked, and I finally got her to come around,” Joan said.
“On something that I think could be very exciting.”
“What is it?”
“What do you think about coming to live with me?”
“For the weekend?”
“Permanently.”
“Live in your house?”
“Yeah. I’ll have to get a two-bedroom, obviously. So at first you’ll be on the sofa or we will get a mattress. I’m not sure. But I’ll figure that out quickly.”
“I don’t care where I sleep,” Frances said. Her face started to bubble up, the tears coming to the surface quickly. “You’d . . . want me there?”
“Oh, honey,” Joan said. She reached across to hold her hand. “I want you with me more than anything.”
Frances put her face down into the crook of her own arm and her body
started to shake. Joan moved to her side of the booth and held her.
Eventually, when Frances’s crying did not stop, Joan put cash on the table, stole the silver tin holding the strawberry milkshake, and led Frances to the car.
“I’m going to re-enroll you in public school, okay?” Joan said once they
got to the car.
Frances nodded.
“And I don’t know exactly how it’s all going to work, but you and I, we will figure it out.”
Frances nodded at that, too. “Joanie,” Frances said. “Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me, babe. I should be thanking you, for the gift it is to be around you.”
Frances leaned toward Joan and Joan pulled her in, across the gearshift. If Frances had spent the first ten years of her life unsure of where she belonged, Joan knew she would spend the next ten knowing she firmly belonged to her.
“Listen, Frances Emerson Goodwin,” Joan said, holding Frances by the chin and making her look at her. “I will love you until the day I die, do you hear me? There is nothing you could do or say or think or feel that would change that. I am yours to fall back on, forever.
“You make my life worth something. And I can promise you with my entire body that you will never be alone. Every day, you can wake up and go to bed knowing there is someone whose heart is bursting, barely able to contain how much they love you. I know you’re my niece, Frances. But you have always, too, been mine.”
The next day, Barbara called at eleven-thirty.
“Happy Thanksgiving,” Frances said, standing in Joan’s kitchen. “I hope you have fun with Daniel. And you both have a nice vacation.”
Joan watched from the stove, standing over a pot of boiling cranberries.
How was it that Frances had this much character at ten years old? Or maybe it wasn’t surprising at all. If character was built through bones breaking and healing, Frances had earned some.
“Thanks, I love you, too, Mom,” Frances said as she got off the phone.
So that was how this would work. Barbara would pretend it was normal.
There would be no taking it back, no apology. Joan could only hope, for Frances’s sake, that one day Barbara would regret it. That she would, in the future, attempt to fix this, to win Frances’s trust back.
But if not, then Joan would be honored to step in for the rest of Frances’s life. It would not be easy. Already Joan was building contingencies for how every facet of her life would have to go to plan B. But Joan would do it all joyfully, despite the heaviness that loomed in the background. She could already feel the full weight of all the ways, both big and small, that this would forever alter her life.
That afternoon, Vanessa picked Joan and Frances up and the three of them went to Donna and Hank’s for the holiday.
Donna had invited Joan and Vanessa before Joan had left for her mission.
And had gotten so excited when Joan called her and asked if Frances could join.
“Yes!” Donna said. “Because I need a babysitter to come over here and hold this fuckin’ baby. I need a break, and Hank is going to be smoking the turkey all afternoon.”
When they got to Donna and Hank’s, they could smell the smoker from the driveway. Donna greeted them with huge hugs. Thea was napping. Donna immediately put Frances to work folding napkins.
Griff was standing at the stove wearing a plaid apron that said, “Who Invited All These Tacky People?” And then over at the table, snapping green beans, was Lydia.
“What is Lydia doing here?” Vanessa whispered.
Donna waved Vanessa off. “Hank says that because she’s part of your mission, I had to invite her. Steve and Helene are stopping by later, too, so it’s the right thing to do. I tried to keep an open mind today. But when she got here, she said our house smelled like mold and we should look into that, so I’ve closed my mind again.”
Joan laughed and went over to Lydia to help snap the beans, while Frances folded napkins right next to her. Lydia barely acknowledged Joan’s presence.
When Hank walked in to grab a beer, he put a hand on Joan’s shoulder to greet her and introduced himself to Frances.
“Nice to have you back Earthside,” he said to Joan.
At which point, Lydia dropped the green beans in her hand.
“Okay, I’m just going to say it,” Lydia said. “I heard you puked the whole time.”
Donna laughed. Vanessa bit her lip. Griff stopped stirring and turned toward Joan.
“I heard that, too,” Griff said with an embarrassed look.
Donna put both hands up. “I’m staying out of it.”
“Joanie, is that true?” Frances asked.
Joan looked around to see that everyone was waiting for her to respond.
“Well, if you must know,” she said, finally. “That is correct. I puked straight into the air.”
Frances threw her head back and cackled. All of the adults in the room started laughing with her.
“No, I used barf bags. Many, many, many barf bags,” Joan said, delighted by Frances’s reaction. Frances laughed so hard she went silent and her face turned red. “Let the record show I did not let it stop me! But I am very happy to be home now with you fine people,” she added, putting her arms around Frances’s shoulders and giving her a squeeze.
“Here, here!” Vanessa said, raising her glass.
Later, they all sat around Donna and Hank’s dining table, Frances crammed in between Joan and Vanessa. Griff told everyone he’d met someone and was
thinking of introducing her to all of them. Donna made fun of him.
Lydia kept asking people to pass the potatoes, and when people didn’t hear her one too many times, she stood up, walked to the other side of the table, took the casserole dish of mashed potatoes, and walked them back to her seat, where she put them in front of her plate.
“There,” Lydia said. “If anyone wants them, they can ask me.”
“Lydia,” Vanessa said, her tone completely dry. “Can I have the potatoes?”
When Thea woke up, Frances sat in the living room with her and rocked her over and over. Hank went in there and sat with them.
Joan overheard Frances ask Hank what it was like to fly the space shuttle and he said, “Dunno, kid, but I’m excited to find out.”
When Steve and Helene showed up with their kids, everyone cheered.
Vanessa gave her seat to Steve; Joan gave hers to Helene. Hank and Griff gave theirs to the kids. And Joan smiled, to watch them.
Once again, there was a table in the center of the room and most of her group stood on the edges, looking on. Joan looked at Griff and smiled. “It’s just like the all-astronauts meetings,” Griff said.
Joan laughed. “You always know what’s in my mind before I do,” she said.
They all shared pecan pie and banana pudding. Vanessa let Frances have both when she thought Joan wasn’t looking. Joan smiled and shook her head at her. Vanessa laughed.
Griff taught Frances a magic trick. Hank told the kids knock-knock jokes.
Later, when Joan and Lydia were doing the dishes, Lydia thanked Joan for her advice.
“Things are going really well with this team,” she told Joan as she cleared plates. “And I’m not sure that would be the case if it weren’t for you.”
“Well, I’m glad,” Joan said, beginning to load the dishwasher.
“You’re . . .” Lydia said. “You’re my best friend here, Joan.”
Joan looked at her and then touched Lydia’s arm, but Lydia did not look at her.
“You’re loading the plates wrong,” Lydia finally said, taking a plate from Joan’s hand and pushing her out of the way. “Who taught you how to load a dishwasher?”
Joan shook her head and turned to see that Vanessa had caught the whole interaction. Vanessa raised her eyebrows and shrugged. Joan laughed.
When it got to be late, and it was time to go, Joan found Donna in Thea’s room, rocking her to sleep. Donna seemed so content, as if she had everything she’d ever wanted.
Joan did not want to go up to space again. And perhaps that had made room for Frances. But Donna would not need room. Donna would find a way.
One day, Donna would come home from space and tell her daughter all about it.
Donna looked up at Joan in the doorway and smiled. Joan waved her good night.
It was the first Thanksgiving Joan had ever had without her parents and Barbara.
But it was the first time she’d ever felt this at home.
Later that night, Vanessa walked Joan and Frances into Joan’s apartment.
Frances headed to brush her teeth and get ready for bed. Boarding school had abruptly matured her. Frances now did so many things on her own, insisted on reading books that struck Joan as perhaps a bit too advanced for her age, and had started wearing shorter skirts and dresses, almost never wearing T- shirts. But she still wanted to be tucked in. And for that, Joan was grateful.
“I’ll be in in a second,” she said to Frances as Frances headed to the bathroom.
“Today was a good day,” Vanessa said once Frances was out of earshot.
“Yes, it was,” Joan said, holding Vanessa’s hand. “Though I missed you, even when you were right there in front of me.”
“I missed you, too,” Vanessa said softly.
They looked at each other. Vanessa could not sleep there that night. There could be no more of that for a long time. Soon they would need a plan.
“Good night, Franny!” Vanessa called out.
“Good night!” Frances called from the sink.
When Vanessa walked out the front door, Joan grabbed her hand for a moment.
“I don’t know how this is all going to work now,” Joan said. “With Frances always here.”
“I know. But we will figure it out,” Vanessa said. “People like us have always had to find a way. And so we do.”
And she then kissed Joan on the cheekbone.
Joan closed her eyes and inhaled.
That Monday, Joan headed to Antonio’s office to request a meeting. She wanted to discuss moving to Mission Control permanently, and no longer being assigned missions in space.
To her surprise, Antonio was walking past his assistant’s desk when she came by. He invited her right in.
“Tell me what’s on your mind,” Antonio said, leaning forward.
Joan did not say that she had just taken in her niece and was now, effectively, a single parent who couldn’t leave the planet for long stretches.
She said the other thing, the one that was more relevant, and possibly even more true.
“I belong on the ground,” Joan said. “I have learned that I am supposed to have both feet on Earth and look up at the stars. Not the other way around.”
There was so much to learn about the universe from Earth. So much she wanted to do from this very ground, here at NASA.
Antonio considered her. “To be honest, I was hoping we could send you up a few more times. Despite your space-adaptation issues, we were very happy
with your research.”
“I understand, sir,” she said.
“But I have heard from Jack that you’ve been a great help on previous missions,” Antonio said. “I think he’d be very open to integrating you into Mission Control.”
“I would be grateful,” Joan said. “If you would consider it.”
Antonio nodded. “I will,” he said. “I will.”
“Thank you,” she said. Joan stood up, and Antonio walked her to the door.
But he only put his hand on the door handle. He did not open it.
“I wondered if you could help me,” Antonio said. “With something.”
“Of course,” Joan said.
“As you know, being assigned any mission requires a certain level of
security clearances,” Antonio said.
“Sure,” Joan said.
“And security clearances cannot be granted to anyone who we believe is . . .” He appeared to be searching for the words. “Morally compromised,” he said, finally.
It hit Joan like a sucker punch.
“Yes, sir.”
“Not as a matter of judgment, mind you, but because it opens people up to the potential for blackmail. People with large debts, for instance, or gambling problems would be a good example of the type of person we would have to rescind a security clearance from, rendering them unable to fly. People who have family members with ties to organized crime would be another example.
Also, the appearance of sexual deviation would make any of our astronauts vulnerable to such a blackmail.”
Joan and Vanessa had asked for too much, pushed too hard, believed too naïvely that they could have what they wanted.
Wasn’t that the story of so many of the gods up there among the stars?
She’d been looking at them her whole life and had never really listened, never learned from their stories. They were always punished for their hubris.
“I want to be very clear about something: I have never felt it is my personal business to know what any of my astronauts do on their own time.
My purview is only as it relates to what is of concern to the U.S. government
and to the public interest.”
“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.
“I just wasn’t sure how to tell you,” Joan said.
“So you’ve been avoiding me? Because you didn’t have the decency to break up with me?”
“No,” Joan said. And then: “Maybe. Either way, it’s not going to work anymore.”
“I don’t agree,” Vanessa said, crossing her arms.
“What are we going to do? I’ll get a babysitter once a week and you and I can go out to dinner three towns over? And then I’ll rush to be home before the sitter has to leave?”
“Yes!” Vanessa said, shouting in a whisper. “That’s exactly what we’ll do.
And I’ll drive you home. And I’ll stay in your room with you that one night a week and then I’ll sneak out before Frances wakes up. Yes!”
“That’s not a relationship!” Joan said, doing her best to keep her voice down.
“That’s what we can have!” Vanessa said. “And I’ll take anything I can
have with you! Don’t you see that?”
“Well, I can’t ask that of you.”
“I’m asking it of you! I’ll sneak into your house just to kiss you once a week if that’s what I can get. I’ll wait until Frances is in college if that’s what I have to do. Are you insane, Joan? I want you. Forever. I told you that. I don’t care what it takes.”
Joan could barely catch her breath. She slumped herself down onto a kitchen chair and rested her head on the table.
“Jo, I don’t understand,” Vanessa said. “Why are you doing this?”
Joan looked up at her. Vanessa’s eyes were teary, her voice catching, her mouth turned down. “Please don’t do this. Please.”
All of Joan’s body went limp, and she began to sob.
“They know,” Joan said, finally.
“What?”
“They know. NASA knows.”
Vanessa blanched. “No, they don’t.”
“Yes, they do. I don’t know if we were too obvious. Or someone told them. A couple of months ago, Jimmy made a comment. I didn’t give it enough attention at the time. I can see now that I should have. He might have gone to Antonio. It doesn’t really matter how—they know.”
“That’s impossible. Steve told me Antonio had no idea.”
“Well, Steve was wrong.”
“But how?”
“Maybe Antonio knows the same way Donna or Jimmy figured it out,”
Joan said. “I mean, we have been in a relationship for three years and it’s probably incredibly obvious. In ways we can’t see.”
Vanessa shook her head. “Maybe you misunderstood him.”
“I went to his office to talk about Mission Control, and I was about to leave, but before I got to the door, he calmly reminded me of the importance of security clearances for astronauts, and that they require no appearances of ‘sexual deviation.’ He said it leaves one open to blackmail.”
Vanessa flinched. “Well, yeah, it leaves us open to blackmail because people act like who we are is shameful. If we didn’t have to keep it a secret, then people wouldn’t be able to blackmail us,” she said. “Did he ever think
about that?”
Joan shook her head and sighed.
Vanessa pushed on: “Did he say why he was telling you this, specifically?”
“He said it was because he knew me to have good, special relationships with many members of the astronaut corps, and that he trusted me to get this information to anyone who needed to hear it.”
“He meant me,” Vanessa said.
“Yes, he meant you.”
Vanessa put her knuckles to her mouth.
“What do we do?” Vanessa said.
“What I am doing,” Joan said. “This is what has to happen.”
Vanessa closed her eyes. Joan watched her chest rise and fall.
“You have to leave us,” Joan said. “With Frances here, the three of us spending time together, it’s only going to become more obvious. You have to
leave us.”
“No—”
“You have to,” Joan said firmly. “I’m sure you’re okay for this mission because it’s happening so soon. But everything after that is at risk. You have to leave, or you will never fly the space shuttle.”
Vanessa did not say anything. She started tapping the counter with her fingers, over and over and over again. Joan buried her head in her arms on the dining table.
“Is that what you want me to do?” Vanessa said. “You want me to leave?”
“Yes,” Joan said. “That is what I want you to do.”
“Maybe you don’t want to lose your own job,” Vanessa said. “I wouldn’t blame you if you’re afraid to be unemployed, now that you’ve got a kid to
take care of.”
Joan scoffed. “No.”
“Well, then why didn’t you tell me about this sooner?” Vanessa said.
“Instead of avoiding me?”
Because I do not know how to live my life without you. Because I don’t even recognize the person I was before I loved you. “Because . . .” Joan said.
But she had no words.
“Then—”
“But this is final,” Joan said. “You have to go. I knew I couldn’t talk to you about it until I worked up enough nerve to see it through. But this is how it has to be. That’s never been clearer to me.”
Joan closed her eyes. When she opened them, Vanessa was standing in
front of her, crying.
“Jo, please—”
“Vanessa, this is not up for debate. I will not allow you to give up everything you have worked toward. It’s over.”
Vanessa hung her head.
“Please do not call me,” Joan continued. “Please do not come back here.”
“How could you—”
“You will meet someone else,” Joan said. “Someone who is not in the corps. And you will be able to keep it a secret. A better secret than we have.
You will be able to have everything you deserve. But you cannot have that
with me.”
“I—”
Joan could not bear another second of this conversation. It had to be over.
She stood up.
“Vanessa, just go,” Joan said.
“Joan—”
“You need to go. I’m asking you to leave my house,” Joan said.
“But Frances . . .” Vanessa said, a tear falling from her face. “You’re not even letting me say goodbye to Frances.”
“I know,” Joan said. “I will explain it all to Frances as best I can. She will
be okay.”
Vanessa stared at her.
But Joan was right. And they both knew that.
Vanessa’s eyes narrowed, her lips tight. “I deserve to at least have a say in this,” she said.
Joan shook her head. “There is nothing left to say.”
“What an incredibly fucked-up thing to do,” Vanessa said.
“I don’t care,” Joan said.
Without saying another word, Vanessa grabbed her keys and left. For a moment, Joan thought she was going to slam the door, but she shut it quietly.
And Joan knew it was so as not to wake up Frances. She wanted to run to Vanessa and tell her that she could not live without a woman who cared about her niece that much.
Instead, when the lock finally clicked, Joan fell to the living room floor and sobbed. She let it shake her body from her chest down through her legs.
She was still crying when she pushed herself up to a sitting position. And through her tears, she could see that while she had been on the floor for only a few minutes, her tears had left a mark on the carpet.
And then the phone rang.
When Joan picked it up, she heard just one word.
“No.”
Joan’s breathing slowed, and she tried to dry her tears.
“No, Joan,” Vanessa said.
“Where are you?” Joan asked.
“I’m in the pay phone across the street because I assumed you would be a
moron and not let me in,” Vanessa said.
Joan ran to the window.
There, at the phone, was Vanessa looking up at her. “No. Do you hear
me?” Vanessa said. “No.”
“Vanessa, they won’t—”
“I listened to you. And you wouldn’t let me talk. But now it’s my turn.
And you don’t get to talk. My answer is no. Absolutely not. I don’t care what Antonio said. I don’t care what they can take from me. I don’t care if they never let me set foot in the fucking space shuttle ever again. No. I will not leave you and Frances. I will not. And you don’t get to tell me what to do.”
Joan wiped a tear from her eye and watched Vanessa yell at her from the pay phone.
“You have no right to tell me I don’t get a say in this,” Vanessa said. “And you have no right to do to me what you did tonight.”
“I’m sorry,” Joan said, “But—”
“I didn’t ask for this!” Vanessa shouted. “I didn’t ask to meet your niece and help you deal with your stupid sister and meet your parents and imagine a life where the two of us could have things that I never dreamed the world would let me have! I didn’t ask for that! That was you!”
“I—”
“And now, when one asshole scares you, you’re going to give it all up?
No! I don’t accept it. I love you. And I love Frances, too, and you don’t get to take her away from me. Just because you’re scared. Or just because you think you know what’s best for me.”
“All you’ve ever wanted is to fly the shuttle,” Joan said.
“All I ever wanted—past tense,” Vanessa said. “But you changed what I wanted, and what I thought was possible.”
Vanessa started losing track of her breath as she broke down. “What an awful thing to do to a person! To make them believe they can have the things they never believed they deserved. And then take it away. What an awful
thing.”
“I’m sorry,” Joan said. “I’m so sorry.”
Joan, staring out the window, saw Vanessa looking at up her. “Please don’t make me go,” Vanessa said, crying harder now. “Please.”
“But you might lose everything you dreamed of.”
“Then I’ll lose it,” Vanessa said. “Let them take it. Just don’t let them take
you.”
Tears fell down Joan’s face.
“Will you come back up here?” Joan asked.
“Will you let me in and let me talk?” Vanessa asked.
“Yes,” Joan said. “Of course.”
Two minutes later, Vanessa was at Joan’s front door. Her face was red.
Joan hated herself for ever making Vanessa cry like that. But denial wasn’t going to fix any of this.
“I’m not the one I’m worried about here. I don’t care if I lose my job,”
Joan said. “I will find another one somewhere. At some university, if I have to. I’ll teach freshmen again if it comes to it. I don’t care. But you. You can’t give up what you’ve been working so hard for.”
“I told you,” Vanessa said. “I don’t care.”
“But I do,” Joan said. “Maybe you don’t care about yourself enough to do what’s smart, but I won’t be able to live with myself if I don’t look out for you.”
Vanessa wiped the tear from Joan’s face.
“You don’t know what’s best for me,” Vanessa said. “As much as you may
think you do.”
Joan sighed. “But . . .”
“I don’t know what’s going to happen,” Vanessa said. “But if it’s you or the space shuttle . . . fuck the space shuttle.”
Joan dropped her head and laughed. Then she looked back up at Vanessa.
“The woman I fell in love with would never have said that,” Joan said.
Vanessa smiled her lopsided grin. “Then I guess I’m not the woman you fell in love with.”
It was more than three years ago that Vanessa had pushed Joan up against the very door they now stood in front of.
Joan had told her that she thought she’d always be alone. Vanessa had told her that she thought she’d never have the things other people had.
But maybe they’d both been wrong.
Joan pulled Vanessa toward her and kissed her up against the door.
“We’re idiots, you know,” Joan said.
And Vanessa smiled. “I know.”
“So what’s your plan?” Joan said.
Vanessa shook her head. “I don’t have one. Yet. But I will figure it out.”
“Oh, you will, will you?”
“I will.”
“Well, why don’t we start with this?” Joan said. “Sneak out of here quietly.
Don’t call me while you’re in quarantine. That way, they won’t have any good reason to stop you from getting on LR9. Then, once you’re back, we will find a way.”
“Okay,” Vanessa said, kissing her neck. “At least you’re CAPCOM. So pretty soon I’ll be able to hear your voice.”
“I’ll be waiting for you,” Joan said. “On the loop.”