Page 130 of Atmosphere

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On the way home, Joanand Frances stopped at a diner and split a peanut butter and jelly sandwich and a strawberry milkshake.

It was almost nine at night by that point. Frances looked tired. Her eyes were red, the skin around them puffy. Her lips were chapped. Joan wanted to hug her but worried that if she did, she herself might fall apart. Returning to Earth was exhausting.

There was an ache in Joan’s chest looking at Frances.

But there was also a sadness that Joan could not name. A disappointment, perhaps. Maybe a reckoning. Certainly a recognition. She had tried so hard to have faith in Barbara. Now it was clear that Barbara was never going to put in much effort to be worthy of her faith.

Barbara had shown who she was. If Joan continued to not see it, well, that would be Joan’s fault.

“Listen, babe,” Joan said, over a plate of french fries that neither of them were eating. “Some stuff has happened.”

“I figured, since you said I’m not going back to school.”

“Your mom and I talked, and I finally got her to come around,” Joan said. “On something that I think could be very exciting.”

“What is it?”

“What do you think about coming to live with me?”

“For the weekend?”

“Permanently.”

“Live in your house?”

“Yeah. I’ll have to get a two-bedroom, obviously. So at first you’ll be on the sofa or we will get a mattress. I’m not sure. But I’ll figure that out quickly.”

“I don’t care where I sleep,” Frances said. Her face started to bubble up, the tears coming to the surface quickly. “You’d…want me there?”

“Oh, honey,” Joan said. She reached across to hold her hand. “I want you with me more than anything.”

Frances put her face down into the crook of her own arm and her body started to shake. Joan moved to her side of the booth and held her. Eventually, when Frances’s crying did not stop, Joan put cash on the table, stole the silver tin holding the strawberry milkshake, and led Frances to the car.

“I’m going to re-enroll you in public school, okay?” Joan said once they got to the car.

Frances nodded.

“And I don’t know exactly how it’s all going to work, but you and I, we will figure it out.”

Frances nodded at that, too. “Joanie,” Frances said. “Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me, babe. I should be thanking you, for the gift it is to be around you.”

Frances leaned toward Joan and Joan pulled her in, across the gearshift. If Frances had spent the first ten years of her life unsure of where she belonged, Joan knew she would spend the next ten knowing she firmly belonged to her.

“Listen, Frances Emerson Goodwin,” Joan said, holding Frances by the chin and making her look at her. “I will love you until the day I die, do you hear me? There is nothing you could do or say or think or feel that would change that. I am yours to fall back on, forever.

“You make my life worth something. And I can promise you with my entire body that you will never be alone. Every day, you can wake up and go to bed knowing there is someone whose heart is bursting, barely able to contain how much they love you. I know you’re my niece, Frances. But you have always, too, beenmine.”

The next day, Barbara calledat eleven-thirty.

“Happy Thanksgiving,” Frances said, standing in Joan’s kitchen. “I hope you have fun with Daniel. And you both have a nice vacation.”

Joan watched from the stove, standing over a pot of boiling cranberries. How was it that Frances had this much character at ten years old? Or maybe it wasn’t surprising at all. If character was built through bones breaking and healing, Frances had earned some.

“Thanks, I love you, too, Mom,” Frances said as she got off the phone.

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