“That it’s not about you,” Joan said. “Choices like this are dictated by what is best for the mission, not the individual. And if you’re asking my advice, I think that’s where you sometimes go wrong. You’re not smarter or harder working than anyone here. Yes, you’re brilliant and driven, but you’re surrounded by people who are just as brilliant and just as driven. You’re not better than anyone on this crew. You cannot be. And you cannot want to be. If you are, you won’t be prepared to do the hard stuff, if you’re too worried about whether you’re winning some imaginary race. It’s about the collective, not the individual.”

Lydia closed her eyes and nodded. She did not speak for quite some time.

“You’re saying be less American, be more Soviet.”

Joan laughed. “I absolutely did not say that!”

“Yeah,” Lydia said, laughing. “You did. I’m going to tell everyone you said I needed to be more Soviet in my mentality, and you’re gonna get kicked off LR7 for being unfit to serve and I’m gonna get your spot. I finally figured it out.”

Joan was still laughing when Lydia stood up. “This is so much easier than I thought! I don’t have to learn anything!”

Joan stood up too and then, without thinking, walked over to Lydia and hugged her.

“What is happening?”

“I’m hugging you.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know.”

Lydia didn’t pull away. She relaxed into it. “I hate this.”

Fall 1983

That fall, Frances took up ballet, and Barbara and Daniel began throwing Sunday night get-togethers for the neighborhood at Daniel’s house.

Which was why this Sunday afternoon, Joan and Barbara were at the grocery store across from the children’s ballet center, picking up cocktail mixers and ice.

“You know, Daniel and I just decided that as exhausting as it is to host so many people, we have to make a point to do this every week,” Barbara said to Joan in the beverage aisle. “It’s come to mean a lot to the neighbors.”

Joan smiled and nodded. Barbara was already rewriting her place in the world, but Joan had to admit that she was touched to see that Frances had made a friend on the block.

Joan grabbed the grapefruit juice Barbara had asked for and put it in the cart as Barbara picked up bottles of soda. “It’s so funny because a lot of the neighbors are angling for an invite to the wedding, but we’ve had to say it’s a little late for that!”

“Oh,” Joan said, rearranging things in the cart so the bottles didn’t roll. “I meant to tell you that I haven’t gotten my invitation yet.”