Atmosphere: A Love Story By Taylor Jenkins Reid - 40

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The day Frances was leaving for boarding school, Joan woke up in Vanessa’s bed and started crying before she was even alert. Ever since Frances had been born, Joan had not gone more than ten days without seeing her for at least a few minutes. Now Joan was approaching a future where she saw her only ...

The day Frances was leaving for boarding school, Joan woke up in Vanessa’s bed and started crying before she was even alert.

Ever since Frances had been born, Joan had not gone more than ten days without seeing her for at least a few minutes. Now Joan was approaching a future where she saw her only on holidays. Even if this was good for Frances, like Barbara claimed, it would break Joan’s heart to miss her this much.

Vanessa handed Joan a tissue. Joan dried her tears.

“She will be home some weekends,” Vanessa said.

“I know,” Joan said. “I’ll miss her, but I’ll be okay. I’m just . . .”

“They’re shitty parents,” Vanessa said finally.

Joan looked at her, shocked.

“You talk around it,” Vanessa said. “Even your mother seems to know it but is unable to say it. But just say it. It’s shitty, what Barb and Daniel are doing.”

“Barb thinks it’s what’s best for Frances,” Joan said.

Vanessa frowned. “Do you think it’s what’s best for Frances?”

“Of course not.”

“Do you think if Barbara thought about it for one second, she would still think it’s best for Frances?”

Joan shook her head. “For some kids it would be a good idea. But if Barb were honest with herself, she would see that her child is acting out because she’s lonely and needs to feel cared about and pulled in. Not sent further away.”

“Exactly.”

“But I’m not Barbara,” Joan said. “At the end of the day, Frances is not my kid. She’s my niece.”

“Yes, but also, who cares what word you use? Some aunts are completely irrelevant, and some aunts have been there since the day their niece was born. I had one grandmother I never saw and one who, when she died, I cried for three days. The word isn’t what matters. It’s the specific relationship. You love that kid more than anything on this planet. She knows that. And that’s what matters.”

Joan nodded. “I don’t know how I’m going to say goodbye to her.”

“You’ll tell her what you have to. That you’ll be fine, even if you won’t. And she’ll be fine, even if you’re not sure. And that you’re always there.”

Joan went over that morning and had breakfast with Barbara, Daniel, and Frances. They were leaving in an hour to start the drive.

As Barbara and Daniel packed the car, Joan sat with Frances in her room.

“I’m in Clarefield Hall,” Frances said. She picked up the brochure she had from her first visit to campus. “You can see it in the background here.”

Frances pointed to a large brick dormitory behind what looked like a campus square.

“It’s the building all the girls want to be in,” Frances said. “Because it is next to the cafeteria and it’s the newest one, so it has individual bathrooms and more phone booths. That means I can call you anytime I want, I bet.”

Joan nodded. “It looks gorgeous.”

“My roommate’s name is Tabitha. She’s eleven. I think most of the other kids are eleven. Tabby and I decided we are going to pick out posters to hang up together. She likes Cyndi Lauper, too. So I think that will be cool.”

Joan kept watching her face, looking for signs of sadness that weren’t there.

“And Mom and Daniel are coming for parents’ weekend in just a few weeks. Mom says they are going to send really huge care packages all the time. Like every Friday.”

“Well, good,” Joan said. “I’m glad.”

“And I’ll be home for Thanksgiving.”

“Oh, I can’t wait.”

“I wish I could come see your liftoff,” Frances said.

“I know, but you’re gonna be having so much fun at school, you’re not even going to be thinking about it. I’ll be up there and back before you know it. In time for Thanksgiving, too. So I can come get you and take you to the movies that weekend. You can think about what you want to see.”

The minutes were speeding by and Joan ached to slow them down. It had been that way for much of Frances’s childhood. Stay. Stay. Stay right here. Don’t go so fast.

Barbara appeared in the doorway.

“Listen, babe,” Joan said. It was getting harder and harder to keep her composure, and she didn’t want to cry in front of Frances. “I think I should get going—you all are about to get in the car.”

“Come on down in two minutes, okay, my love?” Barbara said.

Frances nodded.

When Barbara left, Joan hugged Frances as hard as she could, as if it would make up for all the time ahead of them.

“I love you, make good decisions, I’ll see you at Thanksgiving,” Joan said.

“Joanie,” Frances asked as Joan reached the door.

“Yeah?”

“I’m going to have so much fun, right?”

Joan choked back the lump in her throat. This didn’t feel right to her. Any of this. But what could she do? She didn’t have the ability to stop it. She was leaving on a mission in just over two months. She closed her eyes and reset herself. “You’re going to have a great time. And I’m always a phone call away. Day or night. I will always pick up. Okay?”

Joan rushed in one more time and kissed Frances on the top of her head and said goodbye.

That Tuesday, Joan’s crew had a full-scale simulation to prepare for their mission.

She strapped into her seat in the mid-deck. She listened to the commander and pilot as they prepared for liftoff. She was there, ready for anything that came at them.

But part of her brain was with Frances.

She was thinking about how it must have felt to arrive at the campus, whether Frances and Tabitha were getting along. Were the upperclassmen intimidating? Had she been okay saying goodbye to Barbara and Daniel?

Joan tried to imagine Frances free and happy and surrounded by friends, that the school was everything Frances had dreamed of.

After eight and a half minutes, they were “in orbit” during the simulation. Joan unstrapped herself and began to pretend, as best she could, that she was in microgravity. Pretending to solve problems while floating, even though the gravity of Earth kept them all weighed down.

So much pretending.

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