Page 30 of The Launch

“You bring hope, friendship, a friendly smile, and, for some of them, the only news they get from the outside world. Don’t discount that, Mrs. Booker.”

“Call me Jo,” she says, knotting her hands together nervously. “And thank you. It’s nice to be appreciated.”

Dr. Chavez watches her with open curiosity. He has dark black hair with bits of silver shot through at the temples and his dark brown eyes are framed by friendly-looking crow’s feet that crinkle every time he smiles. Jo can tell from the butterflies in her stomach that she actually finds Dr. Chavez quite handsome, though she doesn’t often have this kind of physical response to men anymore; it’s been years since she’s had a giddy crush on anyone other than Bill.

As if he’s just realizing how much time he’s spending talking to a hospital volunteer, Dr. Chavez takes a step back and gives Jo a friendly nod. “I’ll see you around, Jo,” he says with a twinkle in his eyes. “It’s been a pleasure meeting you.”

“Thank you. You as well, Dr. Chavez.” Jo punches the button for the elevator and the doors slide open instantly. She backs up into the elevator, pulling the cart with her. The doors close on Dr. Chavez, who is standing there with both hands in the pockets of his white lab coat.

As soon as she begins to descend to the floor below, Jo catches a glimpse of her own reflection in the mirrored doors in front of her. Her cheeks are pink like she’s just gone for a brisk evening walk with Frankie, and her eyes are shining with something that looks suspiciously like happiness. Of course she’s worried about Mr. Dandridge getting out of bed and falling and needing stitches, but as the doors slide open once again and she pushes the cart back out into a new hallway, she straightens her shoulders with purpose. A doctor—and a handsome, gregarious, friendly one at that—has recognized her for something good. It’s very validating.

Aside from being with the children, or taking walks with Frankie at twilight, Stardust General has become Jo’s favorite place to be. For the rest of the afternoon, she smiles at everyone she passes, glowing with pleasure over finding something that she’s good at. Something that makes her feel useful. Somethingthat feels distinctly like a step on the path to finding out who she truly is.

“Mr. Huggins—please, come in.” Jo steps aside as she opens her front door the next morning. David Huggins, the official NASA photographer, has requested a day where he can drop in on each of the five families to take some candid shots of their mornings. From the kitchen, the children can be heard talking about an episode ofThe Bugs Bunny Showas they pour milk into their cereal bowls.

“Thank you for having me,” Dave says, stepping into her open living space and looking around. Jo had spent the evening before dusting, vacuuming, and otherwise preparing the house to be photographed, though Bill had assured her more than once that everything looked just fine. Dave Huggins sets his camera on the couch and puts both hands on his hips as he looks around. “Love what you’ve done with the place.”

Jo tries to look at the house through objective eyes: the furniture now is modern and airy, and the colors she’s chosen have the fresh, juicy feeling of citrus. The sunlight from the slanted skylight pours in, bathing the jade plants and the African violets near the windowsill in morning sunshine.

“Thank you,” she says. “Bill is about to leave for work, but we thought maybe you’d want some shots of us all having breakfast together?” Jo clasps her hands in front of her, trying to hide how nervous she feels about having her life and her family photographed for public consumption.

“I want to capture some truly candid moments, so please just go about your morning as you would if I wasn’t here at all.”Dave turns to his camera and begins to fuss with the buttons and switches.

It’s like she’s on stage, performing her life for a live audience, but Jo tries to push that thought aside and act normally. “Honey,” she says to Bill, approaching him with a pot of coffee as he sits at the head of the table. “Coffee?” It both sounds and feels stilted, but Jo wants her family to make a good impression.

Bill holds out his coffee cup and she fills it before filling her own and sitting down. A big family breakfast is an activity usually reserved for the weekends, but Bill had agreed that they should get up early and make themselves more camera-ready for Dave Huggins than they normally would be. In fact, Jo was accustomed to pouring coffee and packing Bill’s lunch while wearing a robe over her nightgown, then kissing him goodbye at the door before going to wake the children for the day. But there is something nice about having everyone up and dressed before eight o’clock. It feels organized. Productive.

“So, what are you all up to today?” Bill asks, setting a napkin on his thigh as he reaches for a piece of buttered toast from the plate that Jo has set on the table.

“Beach,” Kate says decisively. “Mommy said she would take us there for a picnic because she doesn’t have to go to the hospital today.”

“Oh,” Dave Huggins says. His voice is somewhat jarring in the middle of their family breakfast even though they are, of course, aware of his presence. “I wanted to come to the hospital with you for one of your shifts and get some footage of your good works there, if that’s alright.”

Jo smiles nervously, holding a piece of toast over her plate. “Oh,” she says, trying to look unbothered by the idea of having to explain why a photographer is following her around Stardust General. Thus far, she’s been able to get by without sharing much detail about her personal life, but she fears that her days asa quiet, mild-mannered volunteer are about to end. “Of course. I can arrange that. I have a shift tomorrow afternoon, if that works.”

“That would be great, wouldn’t it, Jojo?” Bill says encouragingly, looking at Jo with a kind of goofy pride. He’s done a night-and-day turnaround when it comes to her volunteerism, packing away any of his prior reticence as he’s come to realize how good the hospital has been for Jo, and—as she’d predicted—how good it looks to NASA for his wife to be integrating herself into the community in this way.

Jo chews her toast slowly and then takes a sip of coffee. “It would be great,” she says carefully. “I’ll just need to let my supervising nurse know so that no one is surprised.”

“Actually,” Dave says, moving his camera away from his face so that he’s looking at Jo. “I already called the hospital and explained the situation, and I’ve gotten clearance to be there.”

He at least has the common sense to look slightly chagrined at stepping into Jo’s life without permission, but she pushes down her annoyance and puts a cheerful smile on her face. “That’s wonderful.”

The rest of breakfast is easy and lighthearted, and the children do most of the talking as Dave Huggins walks around, taking photos of them laughing and smiling from all angles. He packs up his camera after Bill leaves for work, thanking Jo and leaving to do the same thing at Frankie and Ed’s house, minus the children.

Jo slips her feet out of her flat shoes as she cleans up the breakfast dishes. The children sit under a tree in the backyard, just beyond the kitchen window. She knows they’re talking about ways to convince Jo and Bill to get them a dog, but she’s been pretending for days not to know what they’re scheming and planning. Jo doesn’t have the heart to tell them that she isn’t sure she’s ready for that kind of commitment, because no matterhow much they promise to do the lion’s share of the work when it comes to walking, feeding, and cleaning up after a pet, Jo harbors no illusions about who will truly be on the hook for the heavy lifting when it comes to dog care.

She rinses the platter that held the scrambled eggs, setting it on the drying rack as she watches her children through the window over the sink. Kate jumps up from her spot on the grass, gesticulating wildly. She’s doing the majority of the talking while her older brother and sister listen. This makes Jo smile, as her youngest is a born leader and a true charmer. She has no doubt that Kate will do great things in life: she could be a teacher or a politician or a business owner…anything, really. Jo mourns the limitless possibilities of youth as she watches her kids’ faces turn pink and shiny from the August heat. Even being young enough that physical discomfort doesn’t matter when you’re in the midst of playing or talking or doing something interesting—she misses all of it. There’s a beauty to still having the story of your life mostly unwritten.

The phone on the wall rings just as Jo is wiping her hands on a dishtowel and admiring her sparkling clean kitchen. She unclips an earring and sets it on the counter, holding the receiver to her ear.

“Good morning, Booker residence,” she says without curiosity. It will undoubtedly be the hospital calling to ask her to take a different shift, or maybe Frankie wanting to complain about Dave Huggins not catching her in the best light as he snapped her and Ed sharing a pot of coffee and the newspaper on their living room couch, or perhaps even one of the other wives, looking to have a get-together with the children.

“Good morning,” a crisply efficient woman says. “May I please speak to Mr. William Booker?”

“I’m sorry, Mr. Booker is at work. This is his wife, may I help you?” Jo frowns. This woman on the phone sounds official. Busy. Serious.

“This is May Ogilvy from Desert Sage in Tucson, Arizona,” the woman says. “I really do need to speak with Mr. Booker directly. Is there a time when I might call back and reach him, or is there perhaps a work number I could call?”

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