The Last Pilot: A Novel

Yeah, I know about the goddamn program, she said.

 

The program, he said, is just getting started. Honey, we’ve all just got here. There’s a hell of a lot to learn. It means I might not be around as much as I was before.

 

Because you were around a lot then, right?

 

I have a job to do.

 

No, you have a job you want to do.

 

You enjoying the house? The food?

 

I enjoyed it when we had nothing.

 

You enjoyed living out in the middle of the goddamn desert with only the Joshua trees for company? You enjoyed the sandstorms and the porch steps you had to stretch over in case they snapped?

 

I miss our home.

 

This is our home.

 

This is not our home. I want to go back.

 

You want to go back? You can’t go back. You want me to tell Deke, sorry Deke, I’ve changed my mind? You want me to tell the president? Sorry, Jack, my wife misses the goddamn Joshua trees! You want me to be the astronaut that never flew? And what do you suppose the guys back at Edwards would say about that? Oh, they’d have some fun with that, let me tell you. No. My career would be finished. And I’d be a national joke. This is our life now.

 

This is our life? she said. No, Jim, this is your life. Your choice. You didn’t even talk to me about— Because you would have said no!

 

You’re goddamned right I would have said no! But I would have gone with you. I would have come. But you lied. Didn’t you? You lied to me about where you were when they interviewed you, when they did their tests. You said you were in Seattle. You lied. To me.

 

Honey, I—

 

Did you even say good-bye to her?

 

What?

 

Did you even go and see her?

 

Harrison stared at Grace.

 

Did you? she said.

 

She’s not there, Grace, all right? When are you gonna realize that? She’s not there!

 

Jim—

 

Grace started to cry.

 

She’s gone, okay, Grace? She’s gone!

 

Can you not even say her name? Grace said through her tears.

 

Just get the hell away from me, he said, backing up.

 

Jim—

 

I need to pack a bag.

 

Where you going?

 

It’s Wally’s flight tomorrow, he said. I’m going to the Cape.

 

He went upstairs and she fell into the sofa and sobbed. When he came down, she was sitting up at the breakfast bar with a glass of milk.

 

Jim, she said.

 

He looked at her from the hallway. Then he turned and left.

 

 

 

The men met in Henri’s, in the basement of the Holiday Inn. It was dark and cool. Small lights lit bottles of brown, deep red and yellow on the shelves behind the bar. Harrison sat down and ordered a whiskey sour and pulled his cigarettes from his shirt pocket.

 

Got a match? he said to Cooper, who sat next to him.

 

I got a lighter? Gordo said.

 

That’ll do.

 

Gordo flipped the lid and struck a flame that spat and flickered in the low light.

 

Thanks.

 

The two men heard a boisterous laugh somewhere behind them. It was Wally, maintaining an even strain.

 

At this rate, Gordo said, they might as well wheel him straight out to the tower and strap him in.

 

Harrison laughed.

 

He’d still do a better job than Carpenter did on the last flight.

 

Jesus, that was like the Bay of Pigs in space, Harrison said.

 

Tell me about it, Gordo said. What the hell happened to the holy notion of operational?

 

Beats me, Harrison said. Guess that’s what happens when you put up a deep-sea diver.

 

You shoulda heard Kraft in the Control Center. He was in-can-descent. Actually stood up and yelled, that sonofabitch will never fly for me again! I thought his goddamn eyeballs were gonna pop.

 

Well, there you go, Harrison said.

 

Yeah.

 

Jeez.

 

The bartender brought over his whiskey sour and Harrison thanked him and took a mouthful.

 

Say, Gordo said. Fancy comin water-skiing after the launch tomorrow?

 

Sure.

 

Great, Gordo said. We can do a little trout fishin after. Cocoa Beach is the goddamn saltwater trout capital of the world.

 

Sounds good.

 

Harrison pulled at the end of his cigarette then pushed it into a nearby ashtray.

 

I gotta split, Gordo said. Got me a little date later.

 

Later? Harrison said. It’s almost midnight.

 

It sure is, Jimmy, he said, smiling. It sure is.

 

Gordo slid off his stool and went up to his room to shower. Harrison ordered another whiskey sour and walked over to where Deke and Gus were talking under a painting of a Polaris missile surrounded by green palms. Before he reached them, he heard a voice call out behind him.

 

Well, shit. If it ain’t Jim Harrison, former pilot.

 

I know that voice, Harrison said, turning around. Joseph Walker, cowboy of the west. What brings you out here to the future?

 

Ho ho, Walker said as the men shook hands. Hell, I just wanted to be in the same room as an astronaut.

 

Harrison smiled.

 

Naw, Walker said, NASA just gave me a coupla days off to see the launch. Gonna be quite a show, by all accounts.

 

You wanna drink?

 

Still workin my way through this one, Walker said, holding up a bottle of beer.

 

You call that a drink? Harrison said. Come with me. He walked back to the bar.

 

Two old-fashioneds, he said to the bartender,

 

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