Page 107 of Space Balls: Houston, We Have Liftoff
The next few minutes are quiet as we decorate. I’m concentrating so hard on not clumping the tinsel that I don’t tense up when Brit breaks the silence.
“Why suddenly bring up Dad?” She’s on her knees, repositioning an enamel bag of cookies.
I finish up a branch and pause for a beat. “I guess I just don’t get it.”
“Get what?”
I pull out a few more strands from the bag. “How could he sign up for such a dangerous job knowing that if he died we’d be left alone?”
I’m answered with silence. I glance down to catch Brit frowning at me.
“What?” It comes out more defensive than I meant it.
“I get what you mean, I do. But…” She sighs. “People in the military sacrifice so much already, you know?” Brit’s usual sarcasm is gone, her inflection serious. “Their service requires their time, their bodies, and for some, like Dad, even their lives.” She fiddles with the fake snow tree skirt, then stops and looks up at me. “Don’t you think it’s too much to ask them to sacrifice having a family as well?” From the look on her face, this isn’t a rhetorical question. She wants an answer.
I don’t have one. “But what about the people left behind? Like you and Mom.” I swallow turning back to the tree. “Me.”
Her lips twist like she’s trying to control a rush of emotion. “Did you know I used to wish Dad wasn’t in the military? That we had a normal nine-to-five dad just like most of the kids in school.” She blinks a few times and clears her throat. “I used to think how much fun it would be to have him come home from work like the dads on the TV shows we used to watch. He’d put down his briefcase and then we’d all sit around the kitchen table and have dinner. Talk about our day.”
“Yeah.” It comes out more like a grunt. “Me too.”
She gives me a sad smile. “But that’s not the dad we had. Our dad was proud to serve his country. It was part of who he was. The Army was his calling. Not many people find that in life.” She pokes me in the leg with her finger. “Andyou’rejust like him.”
“Me?”
“Yes, you.” Her condescending tone is back in action.
“How’s that?”
She tilts her head, thinking. “Well first, you look just like him from the pictures still hanging on Mom’s walls.”
I shrug.
She grabs another ornament. “And second, it seems you both were born with the drive to pursue something bigger than yourselves. For Dad it was the military.” She points a multi-colored taffy stick at me. “For you, it’s NASA.”
“Huh.” I never thought of it like that.
“And I tell you what.” Brit shakes her head. “When you said you were going to be an astronaut, I nearly had a heart attack.”
I frown, thinking back a few years. “I don’t remember that.”
“Yeah, ’cause I hid it from you, you dope.” I have a feeling the only thing saving me from one of her dead leg attacks is the glass ornament. “Just ask Matt. Jacob had just turned two when you applied. I cried my eyes out every night for about a week while spending my days telling everyone how proud I was of you.”
A shot of guilt hits me in the chest. “Damn, I’m sorry, Brit.” I bend my knees, dropping down to her level. “I thought I’d distanced myself enough that you—” I stop myself, cursing myself for sharing too much.
“That I’d what?” I canseeBrit putting the pieces together “You…” The taffy ornament drops to the ground, breaking. “You ignored me so I’d stop caring?” Her tone turns incredulous. “Are you seriously telling me that all the times you dodged my phone calls and skipped holiday dinners you actually thought you were doing me a favor?” She’s gone from incredulous to screeching mad. “What kind of stupid-ass logic is that?” She shoves me with both hands, and I topple back onto the tangled string of lights.
“Ow.” A few of the lights dig into my ass.
“I hope that hurt.” Her eyes burn into mine for a few more moments until they close, and she lets out an exasperated groan. “I can’tbelieveyou’re smart enough to be an astronaut with that kind of thinking.” She shoves both hands into her hair, and I stop myself from pointing out that she has tinsel in it. “You not coming around as often as before didn’t make me love you any less, you idiot.” She drops her hands, looking me in the eyes again. “It just made me curse you a hell of a lot more.” Moving her legs out from beneath her, she sits cross-legged. “Honestly,” she mumbles, still not over it. “You’re such a dick.”
I know saying I’m sorry won’t cut it, so I stay quiet, pull the lights out from under me, and start untangling, all the time under her silent, censorious stare.
When I finally have them straightened, Brit glances at her watch. “You’re totally going to have to tell Mom all this too, you know.” She gets to her feet and moves around the tree.
I rise, my knees popping. “Yeah, maybe—”
“Brittany?” Mom’s voice echoes from somewhere in the house. “Vance?”
