Page 16 of The Launch

“No, she called and said she wasn’t feeling well,” Barbie says as she pulls out a chair and sits down, sliding her oversized sunglasses onto her face. “But maybe the idea of all these kids in the pool was too much. Can’t say that I blame her.” She says it with a smile and it’s not at all meant unkindly, but Jo feels a zing in her heart as she realizes that perhaps that’s precisely why Frankie hasn’t come.

“Hi, all.” Jude walks out the door with Hope and Faith in tow. The twins are wearing matching pink swimsuits, their heads covered by swimming caps covered in daisies. Without further ado, they jump feet-first into the pool and start squealing along with the other children.

There is an open seat next to Jo, and Jude takes it. She’s wearing a long shift dress with no sleeves and her feet are bare,but unlike the other women, she doesn’t seem to have a swimsuit on.

“So, Jude,” Jo says, turning to her. “We haven’t gotten to chat much.” Barbie and Carrie turn towards one another and start a side conversation of their own, which gives Jo the freedom to talk to Jude one-on-one. “Where did you all live before coming to Stardust Beach?”

“Texas,” Jude says drowsily as she pulls her knitting from her bag. “Hot as hell and flat as a pancake. Not much different from Florida, if I’m being honest.”

Jo nods politely; she senses that Jude doesn’t necessarily want to talk, but something is propelling her forward anyway. She needs to know more. “We came from Minnesota,” Jo says without prompting. “It’s pretty much the polar opposite of Florida.” She frowns. “Except maybe for Alaska—I guess that’s the furthest thing from Florida that I can imagine.”

Jude is already back to her knitting, but she nods along as Jo speaks. “Sometimes different is good,” Jude says mildly. “The sameness of life can be suffocating.”

“That’s so true,” Jo says, accepting a glass of water with lemon in it from Barbie, who has gone into the kitchen, poured the glasses, and come back to hand them around. “Thanks, Barbie,” she says as she takes a big, grateful sip. She turns back to Jude. “But there’s comfort in the familiar. I miss knowing that I’ll wake up and go the same places I’ve always gone. I miss the friends and family I saw all the time. I miss the traditions and the rituals of life in a place where you’ve lived for ages, you know? I still think it’s weird to go to the grocery store knowing that there’s no way I’ll run into my mom’s best friend from church, or the girl who played the flute with me in the high school band.”

Jude stops knitting and looks right at Jo from beneath the brim of her hat. She’s not wearing sunglasses, so her piercinggreen eyes look right into Jo’s. “I’ve been a military wife for a decade, and I was a military brat for the rest of my life before that. Moving and change are all I know, Jo. I meet people, I lose people, I get on with it.” She starts to knit again, more furiously this time. “As long as my kids and my husband are happy, then I’m happy.”

This proclamation shuts Jo up for the moment. She lets the words sit between them like a leaf floating on the surface of the pool. Finally, Jo speaks. “I think you should be happy, too,” she says gently, not looking away from the lemon in her glass as it bobs in the glass. “I think we’re more than just wives and mothers, don’t you? Or, at least I think wecanbe.”

Jude doesn’t miss a beat with her knitting needles and she doesn’t look up at Jo as she considers this. “I wasn’t raised to be anything other than a wife and a mother, Jo, and I’d bet dollars to donuts that you weren’t either.”

Jo can hear the rush of blood in her ears as she takes in this statement.I’d bet dollars to donuts that you weren’t either…But is this true? Is it true of all women? Jo chews on her lip and smiles distractedly as Nancy calls out to watch her dive into the pool. She waves at her children and takes a few deep breaths. She’s rattled by the straightforward way that Jude has just deconstructed womanhood in one simple sentence.

There’s probably some truth to it, but it still bothers Jo to hear it. The idea that wanting more, or that having an opinion on where her family lives is something that’s frowned upon nags at her. As she watches her girls playing happily for the rest of the afternoon, Jo can’t help but hear Jude’s words in her head over and over on a loop.

She decides right then and there that she wants more for Nancy and Kate than these outdated notions of womanhood. Sure, she’d love for them to experience the joys of marriage and motherhood, but what if they want more out of life? What ifNancy wants to be a novelist and live in Los Angeles with her cat and a much-younger Portuguese lover for a companion? What if Kate wants to be a doctor or a fashion designer or an architect and let a nanny help her to raise her children?

Going forward, Jo will do what she needs to do in order to be a supportive wife for Bill because she loves him, she believes in him, and she believes in his career, but she’ll also take a bigger piece of the pie for herself, because no matter what the world says about her station in life, her daughters are watching her every move. They’re watching her actions and choices, they’re taking notes, and she wants them to live exactly the lives they want to,notthe lives that everyone else chooses for them.

And she’ll bet dollars to donuts that they’ll thank her for it someday.

SEVEN

bill

The sheer amountof equipment required for a launch is daunting. Bill is well accustomed to the accoutrements of war; he is a military man to his core, and the organizing, carrying, and use of the various parts of his uniform and military load are by now second nature to him. But as he and the other men stand in the center of yet another giant, open space in the Launch Operations Center, taking in the various tables laden with items that are of grave importance to an astronaut, he feels like a kid again, ready to start bootcamp and learn the ropes.

“And this, men, is the Primary Life Support Subsystem,” Arvin North says. He has an unlit cigarette tucked behind one ear, and his thick-framed black glasses reflect the overhead lights as he looks at them with both hands on his hips. North has quickly become a huge part of their daily lives, and while Bill associates him with uncomfortable questions, he also sees Arvin North as an authority figure. And no matter what, Bill respects authority. “Your PLSS has the equipment and supplies that you will need to survive in space. I cannot stress enough how important this is.”

North walks over to a table and lifts up a large, square pack. “This will hold your oxygen—an obvious necessity. Thisis what you breathe in during a spacewalk, and the oxygen will pressurize your suit. Each pack comes with a regulator that ensures proper pressurization.” North picks up a small, square item and holds it aloft for the men to see. “This handy dandy little item will remove carbon dioxide as you exhale it. You need this.” He sets it down and picks up a battery pack with wires coming out of both ends. “This is your electricity. You need this for the suit to work.” North sets it down and picks up a small fan. “This will circulate the oxygen through your suit and life support system. Each of these items works in tandem and is integral to your success and to your survival.” Arvin North walks around another table and sets both hands on top of two more items. “This is your water cooling apparatus—it flows through tubes known as ‘umbilicals’ that are connected to your suit, and this is your two-way radio for communication. Any questions?”

“Will we cover the procedures for repairing a pack while we’re out there, and will we have a backup plan in the event that someone’s pack malfunctions during a spacewalk?” Todd Roman asks, one hand halfway in the air like a Boy Scout asking a question about building a campsite.

Arvin North presses his lips together in a firm line, which Bill takes to mean that he’s losing patience for simplistic questions like this. “Roman,” he says to Todd, “we will cover so much information in the coming weeks and months that you’ll be eating, dreaming, and leaking data about space and aeronautics from your ass every time you sit on the toilet. Got it?”

Todd gives a single nod and clenches his jaw; message received.

“Today I’d like to see each of you put together your own backpack according to the instructions on this piece of paper.” North holds up a single sheet of paper with typewritten instructions. “You will each have your own table,” he says, pointing at the five separate tables covered with the itemshe’s just shown them. “And when I say go, you will assemble your packs. You have five minutes to complete the task. No one will finish in five minutes. When we’ve attempted it once, you will dismantle your pack, and we will start again. This exercise repeats until every one of you can put together a fully functioning Primary Life Support Subsystem in under five minutes.”

Bill holds in a groan and forces his face to remain completely neutral. Timed drills have always been his personal specialty, but he gets the sense that they’ll be running through this exercise a number of times before they manage to get it right. The men have just eaten lunch before this exercise, and while Bill attempts to keep his brain focused on the information being presented, he’s having a bit of a drop in energy and could use a hot, black coffee to get through this.

“Find a table, any table,” North shouts over the echoey din of the large room as the men speak to one another. “Get in position,” he says, consulting a stopwatch that hangs on a black cord around his neck. “Ready, get set, GO!”

Bill pushes the need for caffeine and a ten minute break from his mind and quickly assesses the items on his table, checking them off mentally as he goes:oxygen, fan, carbon dioxide, electricity, water cooler…He looks at each item from all angles, comparing it to the sheet of paper that Arvin North has set on his table. It’s a fairly easy puzzle to solve, connecting each item to another piece and attempting to fit it all snugly into the pack, but even still, the parts of the backpack are unfamiliar to him, so Bill falters once or twice.

As he’s trying to connect the wires of his battery, Bill watches his own hands. They are steady, even. This is his strongest area: calm stability in the face of pressure or danger. He knows that there is no imminent threat, but even still, there is pressure to get the job done in a short amount of time.

Next to Bill, Ed Maxwell is bent over his own table, working quickly to assemble his pack. Bill notices that Ed’s got his fan in at the wrong angle, but it’s unclear whether or not helping one another is an acceptable move. Arvin North has said nothing about working together, and as Bill glances at Arvin, he sees that there is a slightly bemused, questioning look on North’s face.This is a test, Bill thinks.All of this is a test.

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