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.

Fall 1984

Joan and Vanessa were at the Outpost with Donna, who was going to have the baby any moment.

“How are you feeling about liftoff?” Donna asked Joan.

Joan downed half her beer. It was wild to think there was a time when she did not look forward to the taste of an ice-cold beer.

“Are you scared?” Donna said.

“Me?” Joan asked.

“Yeah. It’s only six weeks away. I know all the men say they aren’t scared to go up there, but I think they are lying. And I think you’ll tell me the truth.”

Over the past few weeks, Joan had become intensely aware of the fact that she was getting into a spacecraft attached to a massive fuel tank and two solid rocket boosters that were alarmingly delicate. If anything went wrong, she might never touch land again.

“Yeah,” she said. “I think I’m scared.”

“Being scared is…the rational response,” Vanessa said.

“I’m scared,” Donna said. “I don’t even have my assignment yet. But I’m scared.”

“I’m scared, too,” Vanessa said.

Vanessa’s mission had been scheduled for two days after Christmas. And as it got closer, her training had picked up rapidly. She and Joan were used to going weeks without seeing each other. Now sometimes they couldn’t even talk on the phone.

Joan found it hard to remember how to be that alone. Without Frances. Without Vanessa. She’d taken up running again. It had not been helping much.

“But I also feel ready,” Vanessa added. “I guess I feel like I’m ready to face whatever it is. I’m ready to pay whatever price is asked of me. I’m scared, but I’m ready.”

“Courage,” Joan said. “You have courage.”

She looked at Joan and smiled. “I guess I do.”

Joan held her gaze for a moment too long, smiled a little too earnestly.

Donna stared at them. When they snapped out of it—when Joan finally saw Donna’s face—she could see that Donna was holding back a smile. Donna had a brightness in her eyes that Joan interpreted immediately.

Donna knew.

Donna knew and she had, perhaps, long known.

And she didn’t care.

Donna sipped her club soda and bitters as she glanced at the two of them. Suddenly Joan felt as if her heart were so swollen it might burst open.

Donna knew! Donna would love Joan anyway, would love Joan still, maybe had even loved Joan because.

Joan was safe with her. Joan was okay.