I’d feel a hell of a lot better if it wasn’t the Atlas, Lovell said.
I heard its walls are so thin they collapse if they’re not pressurized, Shepard said.
Lighter it is, faster it goes, Conrad said.
And the higher it blows, Lovell said.
Schirra, who’d gone silent, said, we used to call this kinda thing innovative duty. He stopped smiling. Any one of us would be nuts, he said, to get tied up in this. And you, Jim, he said, looking at Harrison, you’d be nuts to walk away from something like the X-15 for some lunatic Rube Goldberg thing like Project Mercury.
Damn straight, Conrad said.
Well, Harrison said, been real good seein you fellas, but I expect I’ll be headin home.
He took the elevator back to his room. What a crock, he thought. Still, there was something about it he couldn’t shift. He felt something, but didn’t know why. He thought about Lindbergh, the Spirit of St. Louis; wind and wood and wings; the gray sea below, cold Atlantic air burning his face. It was almost eleven. He opened the door to his room. A note had been slipped under it. He sat on the edge of the bed, picked up the telephone, and dialed home.
Honey? he said. I just got a message to call you. Is everything okay?
Jim, she said.
What is it? he said. What’s the matter?
I’m pregnant, she said.
He was home by dawn. He slung his bag down and embraced his sleepy wife standing in the kitchen.
Thought you’d decided to stay? she said.
Couldn’t keep away, he said, arms around her middle. How come you’re up?
Been sick again, she said.
Again?
That’s why I went to see Doctor Roberts in the first place.
When were you sick?
Uh, I don’t know; yesterday, couple of times the day before; last week.
You didn’t tell me?
Why would I tell you?
You were sick!
Yeah.
And I’m your husband.
And?
And you should tell me this stuff.
She put on a pot of coffee, glanced out the window, got out the milk.
You gotta tell me this stuff, hon, he said, leaning against the counter. I need to know.
Jim, there’s a whole entire crater full of stuff I don’t tell you about, she said.
What? But why wouldn’t you tell me if you were sick?
You were at the base the first time it happened. Few weeks ago. I felt better after. And that was it. Sometimes, believe it or not, I don’t want you distracted, especially if you’re flying some important program.
She poured the coffee into two chipped mugs and set them down on the round table. The morning sun fell across it like a drunk.
So I deal with it myself, she said, sitting down. Like all that trouble last year with Hank Roosey.
What trouble with Hank Roosey? he said, joining her at the table.
I can’t believe we’re having this conversation.
What trouble with Hank Roosey?
It doesn’t matter, she said.
What he do?
I took care of it.
I want to know.
It doesn’t matter.
Matters to me.
No it doesn’t, she said. You just can’t stand not knowing. You have to control everything, because if you’re in control, everything will be okay, right? But let me tell you something. That’s not how life works. And you know what? When this little thing—she pointed at her belly—comes out, there’s gonna be a whole heap of chaos in your life that you’ll have zero control over. So get used to it.
Okay, he said, picking up his mug.
Okay?
Okay.
Okay then, she said. I’m sorry, I’m a little cranky right now.
I’d better get used to that too, right? he said.
A laugh escaped her. She looked at him over her mug.
It had something to do with a hog, she said.
I knew it! That miserable sonofabitch—
Jim, forget it, it was eleven months ago. I took care of it. The point is I knew you’d get worked up like this so I didn’t tell you. Just like three weeks ago when I woke after you left for work and was sick in the sink. I thought I’d eaten something bad. Or the week after that when I was hurling most of the afternoon. I just assumed it was some bug. So when it didn’t seem to be going, I called up Doctor Roberts and made an appointment. I would have told you about it but you were in Washington for the briefing. I did tell you when Doctor Roberts called me with the test results; at least, I tried to, I had to leave a message.
What tests did he do?
Blood test; had to pee in a cup—let me tell you, that wasn’t easy.
I’ll bet.
Then he asked me a bunch of questions.
Like what?
General stuff—how much I smoked, what I weighed, family history—that kind of thing.
Harrison sat back in his chair.
He mention anything about you expectin? he said.
Not til he called, she said. I think he suspected at the time but didn’t want to give me any false hope.
What—how—did this happen? Harrison said.
You want me to draw you a diagram?
Is he sure?
Yeah, Jim, it’s real; this is happening.