Frances had been born just yesterday; Joan was sure of it. And yet, Frances was going into second grade and Joan was going to be an astronaut.

“Joanie?”

“Yes, Franny?”

“Wait! You’re the only one who calls me Franny!”

“And you’re the only one who calls me Joanie!”

Frances laughed. “When you get a new place to live, can I come visit?”

“She’s not getting a new place,” Barbara said.

—

That was the third thing Joan did. Days later, she stopped by Barbara’s with a pound cake from the bakery on the corner and explained to her sister one final time that she was, in fact, moving.

“Well, fine,” Barbara said. “But you still need to take Frances on the weekends. I can’t afford a babysitter.”

“I will see Frances on the weekends, just like I do now.”

“You’re really excited about this astronaut thing, huh?” Barbara said. She pushed the pound cake away, and Joan recognized this as her punishment.

“Yeah, I am. And I’m scared, but in a way I’ve never really been before. Which I think is good. It’s exciting.”

“You’re really lucky,” Barbara said, her voice lightening. “That you are free to do something like this. No kid or husband or anything holding you back. I always think about where I would go if I could. And I think London or Paris…but you’re going to the stars. You’re thinking so much bigger.”

Joan felt a swelling in her throat.

Later that week, Joan packed up her entire apartment. When the moving company arrived, they took all of her stuff and drove off. Less than an hour later, she opened the door to her new place. It smelled like fresh paint.

That night, she went out for a walk in her new neighborhood and ran into Donna Fitzgerald and John Griffin, two of the other mission specialists who were a part of Group 9. She recognized them from the day NASA had gathered them for a photo of the incoming class.

Donna had blue eyes and dark brown hair that was thick and bouncy, so much so that Joan thought she looked like she could be in an ad for shampoo. And John—with such an easy smile and eyes that crinkled—had the most soothing voice Joan had ever heard. It was low and gravelly and made Joan like him the moment she heard him speak.

“I guess we’re all predictable as shit, huh?” Donna said. “Join the astronaut corps and get a one-bedroom apartment by the campus the week before training starts.”

Joan laughed. “Well, I don’t know. Maybe John got a two-bedroom.”

“Sorry to disappoint,” he said. “It’s a one-bedroom, just like yours. Pretty sure Lydia Danes is in the building, too. I think I saw her.”

“Ah, well,” Joan said. “So much for being original.”