Page 22 of Atmosphere

Barbara sighed. “I swear, Joan, every time I think I understand you, I’m more wrong than the time before.”

“I’m not that hard to understand, Barb. I love my new job. It’s…the coolest thing I’ve ever, ever, ever done.”

Barbara looked at her, and Joan could feel the distance between them growing. She’d been just an arm’s length away a second ago, but she was gone now.

“If only I could find something I love half as much as you love talking about stars.”

Joan said good night to Barbara and went back inside her apartment with a smile still on her face. She could hear the condescension in her sister’s voice, but she could not be angry.

Joan so loved the beauty in this world: showing people the stars, spotting the fuzzy glimmer of the Orion Nebula with just her eyes, the rare moments when auroras are visible even in the southern states because of intense geomagnetic storms, trying one more time to really nail Rachmaninoff’s Prelude in C-sharp Minor, rereadingThe Awakening,listening to Joni Mitchell and Kate Bush, drawing for so long, so late into the night that her palm cramped, running so far that she forgot to think, taking Frances for ice cream and watching how long she deliberated over which flavor to choose, the smell of Frances’s hair…

That was the stuff that made life worth living. And she worried Barbara didn’t see that.

“All right, babe,” Joan said once Frances was done with her shower. “Are we watching TV or reading a book?”

“Reading a book!” Frances said.

Joan began taking the throw pillows off the sofa. “Okay, if you’re sure…” It was the easiest trick with Frances: if you let her choose, she’d choose the responsible option. But if you told Frances she couldn’t do something, you’d get a battle for the ages. Joan had tried to explain this to Barbara, but Barbara didn’t want to hear it.

Joan extended the sofa bed, and Frances got settled in, grabbing her book.

“Joanie,” Frances said. “I love your new apartment. I wish I lived here.”

“Aw, babe, you can stay here anytime you want. It’s your place, too. Always.”

Joan kissed her on the forehead and turned out the lights in the living room. She went into her bedroom.

And then, instead of grabbing her own book, she grabbed her sketchpad and a pencil. For the next hour, she tried to draw her own face.

It was late August andJoan was standing by herself in Steve and Helene’s backyard, watching Steve turn off the smoker while his daughters ran around the yard trying to catch fireflies. On the table next to her were the very few leftovers from the spread of brisket, macaroni salad, coleslaw, baked beans, and biscuits. People had not yet cut into the buttermilk pies or the Texas sheet cake. Joan was trying to remember the last time she’d eaten dinner alone. It had been far too long.

In their training, they had been split into two teams. The Red Team, led by a military pilot ASCAN named Duke Patterson, consisted of Donna, Harrison, Vanessa, Marty, and some of the pilots Joan still did not know well yet.

Joan’s team, the Blue Team, was captained by Hank and included her, Griff, Lydia, Ted, and their own group of pilots, including Jimmy Hayman, whom Joan disliked more every time she spoke to him.

The Red Team would have instruction in the classroom in the morning and then head out in the T-38s in the afternoon. Joan’s team would do the opposite.

Their days were packed. Between the lessons on engineering, oceanography, geography, anatomy, and other topics, Joan was absorbing so much information alongside her fellow ASCANs that it only made sense to study after hours with them, too. She and Griff had spent so many nights in his apartment, going over country borders and emergency medical procedures, that they now knew each other’s takeout orders without having to ask. Every other evening there was some get-together, either at the Outpost or Frenchie’s. Joan couldn’t remember, even in college, being out so late, so often, with so many people.

The only thing she was actually enjoying right now at this partywas the nearly empty beer bottle in her hand. She’d never tried a beer until Donna and Griff insisted. She’d been surprised to find that Coors Light was delicious.

Joan took a last sip and looked around. Most people seemed occupied. Maybe she could sneak out without anyone noticing.

But a moment later, Vanessa strolled up to her and handed her another beer. “You look like you’re counting down the minutes until you can leave.”

Joan laughed. “I think I’ve had my share of socializing for now,” she said as they stood on the edge of Steve and Helene’s pool. “Present company excluded from my complaining, of course.”

Hank walked into the backyard, hours late to the BBQ. Everyone cheered, even Joan. They’d gone up in the T-38s four more times together since that first ride. Each time, Hank had let her take more control of the jet than the time before.

She found Donna’s mooning over him to be a bit much. But she had to admit, he was one of the good ones. She thought of him the way she thought young children must think of Willy Wonka. Here was the door to all the magic and danger.

“I mean, Griff and Donna are great. Hank, I like. You’re great. But some of these other guys, I could do without. No offense, but I could be at home right now with a good book.”

Vanessa laughed and sipped her beer. “You’re awfully grumpy.”

“I am notgrumpy.”

“It’s a good thing.”

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