Atmosphere: A Love Story By Taylor Jenkins Reid - 34

They spent the fall, winter, and spring of their second year together, shifting from desire into comfort.

That rush and ache that Joan had once felt at the graze of Vanessa’s hand along her arm had muted. There was less newness between them, almost no mystery.

But Joan knew she felt less buzz because she also felt no fear. There could be no danger between them when they made each other this safe.

This wasn’t romance—Joan was sure of it. It was something much deeper. Something that, unlike every other thing in the known universe, Joan suspected, could last forever.

That June, Joan and Vanessa were at a bar with Donna, Lydia, Griff, and Hank. It was two nights before STS-7 was supposed to launch—two nights before Sally Ride was to become the first American woman astronaut to fly on the space shuttle.

Tomorrow, Vanessa and Hank would head out to Edwards. Donna and Joan were heading to Cape Canaveral.

But Joan always liked this moment best—this liminal time right before a launch where no one had anything to do just yet. Even if Vanessa was growing unnecessarily heated about what was the best song about space.

“Griff,” she said. “I am glad we agree that it’s Bowie. But it’s ‘Space Oddity.’ ”

Griff shook his head. “I stand by what I said.”

Hank laughed.

“You’re standing by ‘Starman’?” Vanessa said. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

“I don’t want to rock the boat with y’all, but it’s ‘Rocket Man,’ ” Hank said.

Both Vanessa and Griff looked at him.

“That’s number two,” Vanessa said.

“She’s right.”

And then they looked back at each other. “ ‘Space Oddity’ is a tragedy!” Griff said. “It’s heartbreaking. ‘Starman’ is hopeful, it’s embracing the future.”

Vanessa shook her head. “You would be a sucker for that.”

“Okay, let’s not get personal.”

“I like ‘Space Baby,’ by the Tubes,” Donna said. “Or what’s that one by the Kinks?”

“All right, at least Griff is smart enough to know it’s Bowie,” Vanessa said.

Joan put her hand on Donna’s shoulder. “It’s better, when Vanessa is talking about David Bowie, to not get involved. She’s insane.”

“Hey!”

Joan sipped her beer. “You know, one time, when Frances was over, she was watching Sesame Street, and this song came on called ‘I Don’t Want to Live on the Moon.’ Ernie sings it. And it’s all about how he wants to go to the moon, but he doesn’t want to live there because he would miss all his friends.”

“Are you serious?” Griff said. “Is this your honest contribution to the best song about space? Bert and Ernie?”

Bert wasn’t in it, but Joan could tell that wasn’t the point. “I’m just saying . . . I found it moving.”

Vanessa and Griff shared a smile. “She found it moving,” Vanessa said.

“You guys are making jokes like you don’t understand what’s at stake on Saturday,” Lydia said.

Everyone turned to her. “One day it will be you on the shuttle, Lyds,” Donna said. “Don’t worry.”

“It’s not that,” Lydia said.

“C’mon,” Vanessa said. “That’s always what you’re worried about.”

Lydia shook her head. “Not this time. It’s really not.” She pushed her beer away from her. “Guys, if anything goes wrong on Saturday, anything . . .” she said. “If Sally so much as sneezes at the wrong time, everyone will blame it on the fact that she’s a woman. And then none of us will go up there for a very long time.”

Griff and Hank sat back.

Lydia grew more animated. “Little girls across the country will be made fun of at recess when they want to grab the ball, and teenaged girls who get straight A’s in science will be told to have a backup plan, and no one will dress up as Sally for Halloween. Girls’ understanding of who they can be will be smaller. If this does not go well. Whether we mean to or not, we will have done that to them.”

Donna put her hand on Lydia’s shoulder.

Lydia was entirely right. There were four men on that shuttle. But every American woman was. Joan and Vanessa and Donna and Lydia—and so many people at NASA—were steadying themselves on the edge of a coin. It could be so easy for it all to go sideways. If it did, the backlash would be swift, and brutal. A wave overtaking all of them, each lost in the riptide.

To Joan’s surprise, Vanessa reached across and took Lydia’s hand for a moment. Then she let go and sat back.

“But then again, it’s also the first time jelly beans are going to space, so pray for the jelly beans,” Lydia said.

Joan choked on her water.

“I told you I’m funny,” Lydia said.

Two days later, STS-7 launched without a hitch. And six days later, Joan pushed her way into the theater at Mission Control to watch the shuttle land, safely, at Edwards.

When Joan got home to Vanessa that night, neither of them said it, but Joan knew both of them felt it.

Sally had done it. Any of them could be assigned now. Their moment was coming.

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