Page 28 of California Waves

Hersch appeared to feel the same as he took another sip and then asked with a twinkle in his eye, “Have you ordered my whole dinner? Or should I look at the menu?”

She laughed and set down her glass. “I organized the table and the champagne. You’re on your own for everything else.”

He settled back with the menu, which tended to feature a lot of fresh fish and locally grown produce. She quickly decided on the ahi tuna steak with local vegetables. She took a moment to study him. Even just choosing from a menu, his face had a serious look, as though the most trivial decision deserved the most careful consideration. As someone who could be a little impulsive, she found that trait quite charming. When he moved, the candlelight caught a glint of gold around his neck, and she felt herself enjoying every small detail of the evening already.

As soon as he closed his menu with an air of decision, she leaned forward to study the gold chain he wore. “That looks like some sort of charm. What is it?”

Reflexively, Hersch touched the chain and looked thoughtful. “My Saint Christopher’s medal. It belonged to my grandfather, who fought in World War II. He was British and flew for the RAF. His name was Herschel too. The Saint Christopher’s was handed down to me mostly, I think, because I also got his name. He was shot down, but he survived, believing that Saint Christopher had protected him on his journey. I’m not sure if the medal saved him or not, but I’ve always liked the story. Maybe it’s superstitious… No, it’s definitely superstitious, and I laugh at myself regularly, as a man who believes so strongly in science, but I never take it off.” He paused and looked pensive. “Maybe when I nearly died out there, my grandfather was watching out for me. I don’t know, but I don’t plan to take it off any time soon.”

“I get that,” Mila said. “Why mess with fate?” And then she added, “Plus, it suits you.”

He smiled and touched the chain again.

The waiter came over then and recommended the crab cakes as an appetizer, as well as the fresh oysters.

She raised her brows at Hersch, who said, “Why don’t we have both and share?”

She loved this idea and ordered her main meal. She waited, intrigued, to see what kind of appetite Hersch had and was impressed when he chose the steak and lobster. When the waiter inquired about wine, Hersch looked to Mila and said, “I don’t tend to drink much, out of habit from my training, but I’d join you in a bottle if you’d like?”

Mila smiled. He had such a charming way of saying things. She said, “They have really good wines by the glass. I don’t need a whole bottle either.”

So they each chose a glass of good wine. She went for white and he for red. Both were California wines from the best wineries.

With everything ordered, Mila sat back in her chair and really relaxed. She looked at the hot man opposite her and decided she wanted to know everything about him. “So,” she said, setting down her champagne flute, “I don’t meet many astronauts, like pretty much every other person on the planet. What’s it like?”

He chuckled. “The question I get asked most often? ‘How do you go to the bathroom in space?’”

She said, “I’m going to guess you talk to a lot of school kids.”

He nodded. “Yes, ma’am. Public outreach is just part of the job.”

“Well, don’t worry. I’m not going to ask about your bathroom habits. What I really want to know is what it feels like to be out there. It’s so hard for me to imagine.”

As she had known he would, he paused as though he was really considering her question so he could give the best answer he could. But he didn’t look away, holding Mila’s gaze as she anticipated his answer. “My last mission was to the International Space Station. When you live there, there’s a small community, and even though it’s miles away from Earth in a zero-gravity environment, it becomes very routine. Honestly, you’d be surprised at how mundane the days are. Full of cleaning and checks and documenting the most minute details. And exercise, of course. We spend two hours every morning exercising to keep our bodies regulated and to ward off as much muscle atrophy as we can. Time in space weakens and ages us.”

She stared at him, not quite believing that his strong, muscular body could ever weaken. But after watching his crash and hearing the commentator mention his muscle atrophy while swimming, she decided to stay clear of the subject for fear of upsetting him. Instead, she said, “First of all, whatever you do in space is not boring, because it’s space. And second, take me back to zero gravity. I mean, do you have to, like, strap yourself down to get any work done?”

He shook his head. “It’s not that bad. I strap in to sleep in a sleeping bag that attaches to the wall.”

She was puzzled. “How do you lie down in space?”

He laughed a little. “You don’t. Because there’s no gravity, you don’t know whether you’re up or down or sideways, and the funny thing is that it doesn’t matter to your body. I tend to go vertical just because, and you don’t need a pillow, because your head’s not going to flop, so you kind of sleep upright, I guess.”

She shook her own head in response. “Now I’m super glad we got you that luxurious new mattress. You deserve it.”

He grinned, and then the fresh oysters appeared.

As they ate, he said, “I may not want to go into the ocean, but I do love the food that comes out of it.”

“And what were you working on up there?”

“A lot of what we do is scientific research. I was a medical doctor first and originally thought I’d practice as a doctor all my life, but I’d always had this fascination with space. Well, when your name is Herschel, and you’re named after an astronomer, you get an interest in the stars and the sky along with it—at least, I did. When I was a kid, I loved hearing all the stories about my grandfather in the war, flying fighter planes, and then my dad was a commercial pilot. He passed away five years ago. Cancer. So I guess flying seemed like something I should do.” He paused. “I just went a little higher than they did.” He chuckled. “I do like to take things to the next level sometimes.”

Mila wondered if he’d be willing to take things between them to the next level. She finished her flute of champagne and then said, “It sounds like flying is in your blood.”

He nodded. “I think so. I already had my pilot’s license, and when they recruit astronauts, they look for people with STEM degrees—that’s science, technology, engineering, and medicine. I had the medicine, but I also had a PhD in molecular biology.”

She was blown away by how modest this man was. “Wait—so you’re Dr. Herschel Greenfield.”

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