Page 44 of The Light Year

“I respect him a lot,” Barbie says. “And I think their church is really lovely. Warm and inviting.”

Carrie has tied her lightweight sweater around her waist as they’ve walked and warmed up. She glances back over her shoulder to make sure no one is right behind them.

“But you think he’s handsome, right? I mean, heishandsome. Everyone can see that.”

“Sure,” Barbie says carefully, remembering the way his profile had looked in candlelight. “He is a handsome man. But it’s not like that—for either of us.”

Carrie shoots her a knowing look. “Babe,” she says, patting Barbie playfully on the arm. “It’salwayslike that for men.”

Barbie thinks about this as they walk on, trying to get in as many laps around the Cape as they can. During the time that she’d taken pledges for the Walk-a-thon, Barbie had gotten enough financial commitments that she’s earning over five dollars for every lap she does, and her goal is to do ten laps, though that will take the better part of the morning and run through lunchtime.

As they approach the main building, they see Dave Huggins, NASA’s official photographer, kneeling on the asphalt and getting shots of the ladies who pass him by. Barbie and Carrie had roped in seventeen other wives of astronauts to take part,and with everyone’s fundraising efforts, it’s looking to be a fairly successful event. Barbie can’t wait to collect all the pledges, total up the funds they’ve earned, and deliver a check to the library that will allow them to buy more books and to hire an extra librarian so that they can keep their doors open longer and offer more programs.

“I’d like to think it’s not always like that,” Barbie says, smiling for Dave Huggins as they pass him by. His shutter clicks a few times, and she turns back to Carrie. “I think there are some cases where it’s just mutual admiration, you know?”

Carrie shrugs. “I’d like to think that. For instance, if our husbands are working closely with other women, I want to believe that it’s totally on the up and up, right?” She nudges Barbie with her elbow.

“Of course,” Barbie says. “However, I know my own father didn’t always work alongside other women without having a deeper interest in them. And that’s always bothered me.”

“Probably bothered your mom, too,” Carrie says, then clamps a hand over her mouth. “Barbie, I’m sorry! I shouldn’t have said that. It’s not my place to make comments about your parents like that.”

Barbie waves a hand at her. “Oh, you’re fine. We’re friends, Carrie, you can comment.” She walks along quietly for a bit, remembering the muffled accusations behind closed doors as her parents had fought during her childhood. “I’m just saying that while I know some men can’t keep it zipped, I think a lot of them have other things on their mind.”

Carrie nods and puts her sunglasses back on to cut the glare from the overcast sky. She’s chewing gum, and she blows a small bubble and pops it with a loudsnap. “Of course. And, to be fair, Sam is a particularly good guy. I think he really appreciates people being willing to help other people, so I don’t want to talk badly about him and suggest he’s after a married woman. I’mjust saying,” she says, nudging Barbie again, “that he’s pretty cute, and I figured you’d noticed.”

Barbie stays quiet as they walk on, and finally, rounding the edge of the fence line, she speaks up again. "You know, I really won't feel like I'm fulfilling my potential if I can't find a way to be of service--even if only financially--to people who are less fortunate than me."

Carrie glances at her, swinging her arms as they walk. "Amen, sister," she says. "I knew I liked you when we met, even if my first impression was that you were a cute cheerleader who married a Ken doll."

At this, Barbie laughs. "You think Todd looks like a Ken doll?"

"Oh, absolutely." Carrie snaps her gum again. "And I mean that in the very nicest way. He's like… Astronaut Ken."

Barbie laughs again. "He is handsome," she says, thinking of how cute Todd looks in the morning after he's showered and shaved and dressed for work. "But did you really think I was some bubblehead?"

"Barb, no--not a bubblehead. Just not quite as civically minded as you actually are. Have you always been this way?"

"No, not necessarily," Barbie admits. "I think, in my heart, I always cared about other people, but growing up with money, in a big house, with everything I ever wanted, it sort of let me live in blissful ignorance. I knew that something I did when I was a very small girl got a staff member fired at my house, but it wasn't until fairly recently that I really understood the implications of that."

Carrie looks at her with interest as they march on, starting their third lap together. "Go on."

"Well, I was sad that Neville, one of our butlers, got fired--"

"Abutler?" Carrie interrupts, eyebrows shooting towards the sky. "Sorry." She holds up a hand to stop herself.

"Yeah, we had a pretty good-sized staff around the house. And Neville got fired for going against my parents' wishes and getting me cookies when I wouldn't finish my dinner."

Carrie looks stricken. "Wow."

"It was absolutely a 'wow,'" Barbie admits. "I was sad as a kid, but as an adult, I realized his job was what fed his family. And that, as a colored person, his family was already operating in a different socioeconomic strata than my family. Losing his job might have meant that finding new work was even harder--who wants to interview for a new job by admitting you got fired from your last one?" Barbie clamps her mouth shut and shakes her head. "I just didn't think about all of it for a really long time. And once I realized how divided our country is--and how divided our communities are--I just knew that doing something productive with my inheritance was the only option."

"And how is that looking now?"

"The meeting we had with the lawyers was… interesting.” Barbie had come back from Connecticut and stayed pretty mum on the whole thing, but now that she and Carrie are alone and without the children underfoot to interrupt every few minutes, she feels more like talking. “My father can be a bully when he wants to.”

“And you feel like he’s bullying you?”

Barbie shrugs one shoulder. “I guess so. Yes. He wants to intimidate me, and I feel like I have enough of my mother in me that I’m not going to just roll over because he says so.”

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