Page 45 of The Launch

“That is wonderful.” Mr. D’s eyes dance merrily. “Children at the beginning of their educational journey.” He shakes his head as he looks at a spot on the wall above Jo’s head. “It’s all still ahead of them, isn’t it? All the learning, the joy, the mistakes, the failures…all of it.” He looks wistful for a moment.

“That’s true enough,” Jo agrees neutrally. “And my oldest, Jimmy, has the opportunity of a lifetime coming up.”

“Oh? What’s that?” Mr. D snaps out of his melancholy reflection and refocuses on Jo.

“Well, along with Jimmy, in his sixth grade class are the children of three other astronauts from Port Canaveral, and they’ve all been invited—the whole class—to take an 800-mile bus ride to Washington D.C. to meet the president.”

Mr. Dandridge gives a hoot so loud that Jo startles.

“It’s amazing, isn’t it?”

“You’re letting him go, of course?”

“Oh, of course. Bill is completely on board with it. It’s an honor for our son to get to meet the Commander in Chief, and I think Bill is going to volunteer as a chaperone.”

“Sounds like a photo op in the making,” Mr. Dandridge says. “The astronaut fathers accompanying their kids to the White House is newsworthy for sure.”

They sit there smiling for a long moment, and between them there is a palpable, unspoken mountain of words.

“So,” Mr. Dandridge finally says, “I would imagine that you’ve been updated at this point on my prognosis.”

“Oh, Mr. D.” Jo’s eyes immediately fill with tears. She slides forward on her chair and reaches out for the guardrail next to his bed, gripping it tightly. “I’m so sorry. I had no idea.”

Mr. Dandridge’s eyes are glassy with unshed tears. “I preferred it that way, to be honest, my dear Josephine. Every other person who comes into my room is here to draw blood, give me a dose of something that makes me sick, or to tell me bad news, but when you show up, it’s with books likeThe Heart is a Lonely TravelerorHer White Gloves.” They smile at each other knowingly. “I enjoy talking about your children and the weather and books far more than I like hearing about a disease that’s slowly killing me from the inside.”

Hearing these words makes the tears spill over Jo’s cheeks and she cries openly. “I’m so sorry,” she apologizes. “It’s not my place to be crying like this.”

“The hell it isn’t,” Mr. Dandridge says indignantly. “We’re friends, Josephine. I’d be offended if you weren’t at least a tiny bit sad to see me go.”

Jo’s been holding onto his bed so tightly that her knuckles have gone white, and she releases it now, flexing her fingers. “Please don’t say you’re going,” she begs him, wiping at her cheeks with the back of her hands. Mr. Dandridge reaches for a box of Kleenex on the stand next to his bed and hands it to Jo.

“Darling girl, I have to say it like it is. I can use all the poetic devices, all the euphemisms I want, but in the end, the simple fact is that I’m an old widower who is dying. And when I’m gone,the sun will still rise, the palm trees will still wave against a blue sky, and astronauts will still go into space to see what else is out there. Your children will grow, books will be written, and perhaps—just maybe—our friendship will linger in your heart.”

Jo pulls a tissue from the box and blows her nose as she nods emphatically. “It will!” she promises. “Forever.”

“Okay,” Mr. Dandridge says decisively. “Then let’s knock off this nonsense for today, and you give me some books that will keep me entertained. What do you say?”

Jo wipes her eyes and stands, tucking the Kleenex into the pocket of her cardigan. She composes herself. “Absolutely,” she says with a determination she doesn’t quite feel. Given the chance, she’d like to cry a bit more over the fact that she’ll—most likely—lose her friend in the near future, but she knows this isn’t what’s best for him. Instead, Jo takes three paperbacks from the cart that she’s borrowed from Frankie and sets them on the nightstand. “Here you go. Plenty of stolen kisses,” she says, dropping her voice as if they’re being spied on. “Lots of forbidden romance, and a few broken hearts.”

“Just the way I like it,” Mr. D says with a wink.

Before the tears start up again, Jo gathers her cart and moves to the door. “See you in two days?” she asks hopefully.

“You better believe it.” Mr. Dandridge smiles at her, holding her gaze for an extra beat. “Now you get on out of here, finish your duties, and go home to help your young man pack to meet the president.”

Jo smiles gamely. “Will do,” she says, hanging onto her cart with both hands.

“And you tell him that if he can get a picture with that gorgeous First Lady, then that’s the real ticket. I’d like a copy ofthatphoto.”

Jo laughs at this uncharacteristic display of boyishness from the old man. “You got it, Mr. D,” she says. Her eyes linger on himfor an extra moment as he turns to the window and stares out at the bright, sunny afternoon. His smile fades just slightly, and Jo leaves him like that, taking the pain in her heart with her.

NINETEEN

bill

By the timeBill and Jimmy are set to leave for Washington D.C. in mid-September, there is a distinctive pattern to their lives. At home, the kids have favorite playmates. Jo has her work at Stardust General, and she has her increasingly close group of friends in the neighborhood—especially Frankie. And Bill has sporadic updates from Desert Sage (Margaret has days and weeks of silent disassociation, followed by bouts of rage and confusion; treatments are having mixed results), and a predictable routine at work.

Jeanie Florence has become his favorite workmate to chat with over afternoon coffee, though he hasn’t quite dared to suggest that the small group of female engineers integrate themselves into the mens’ lunch hour or join them regularly at the Black Hole. Her combination of down-to-earth wit, scientific and astronomic knowledge, and youthful innocence have made Jeanie a bright spot in even the most tiring days at NASA.

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