Page 102 of Atmosphere

Barbara looked at her.

“I’m reading a book about the Wright brothers,” Joan said. It was the closest she could come to saying to Barbara,I love a pilot.

“Well, then imagine what we will do in the next fifty-eight years,” Barbara said, smiling. She started French-braiding Frances’s hair as they watched the sky.

Joan looked up. Vanessa was in the air somewhere. And if Joan was looking up, trying to find Vanessa, it stood to reason that Vanessa was looking down, trying to find her.

“Wow,” Barbara said.

“I want to fly,” Frances said. “Someday.”

“Then someday you will,” Joan said.

“Who knows,” Barbara told her. “Maybe one day Daniel will buy you a plane.”

“I can’t wait until you get assigned to a mission, and I can tell everyone at school that my aunt is going to space,” Frances said.

As the hot-air balloons floated above their heads and the sun had set and the stars dared to come out, Joan grabbed Frances’s hand. It was not as tiny as it had once been, but it was still so small compared to hers. Frances was still so young. Joan could not wait to meet the adult she would be, but also wished she could pause here, in this moment, forever.

Joan kissed the top of Frances’s hand. “I’m glad you’re both here,” she said.

And then she bent her head back and looked up at the sky with the wonder of someone who’d never seen it before.

It was a balmy Septembernight, at six o’clock in the evening on a Monday.

Vanessa and Joan were at Joan’s apartment, about to head out to Frenchie’s for dinner with Donna, Lydia, and Griff. But then Joan’s phone rang.

Joan picked it up in the kitchen.

And there he was. That voice that ruled over the astronauts as if they were mere gods and he was Zeus.

“Can you come see me tomorrow morning?” Antonio said. “First thing?”

“Of course,” Joan said. “Is something wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong,” he said. “Just please come see me when you get in.”

Joan hung up and then looked at Vanessa, who was leaning against the refrigerator, watching her.

“Antonio?” Vanessa asked.

“He wants me to see him first thing in the morning. He won’t say why.”

Vanessa cocked her head. “How did he seem?”

“Very casual, like it was nothing at all. Like he always summons me to his office.”

“Maybe you’re getting a flight assignment.”

“Before Lydia or Griff? C’mon.”

Vanessa shrugged. “It’s not impossible.”

“It’s not likely.”

Vanessa didn’t respond. Instead, she grabbed a bottle of wine off Joan’s counter and began to open it. “Let’s stay in tonight and drink this bottle and listen to records and make out,” she said.

Joan had become a flake since falling in love. “Yes,” she said, “Let’s.”

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