I’ve been going along to church, she said, in Rosamond. It’s helping.
I’m glad.
Merry Christmas, Jim, she said.
Merry Christmas, he said.
The line was silent, then it was dead. He tapped on his leg once, twice, three, four, five times, then went down to the bar and felt sorry for himself.
Sixty-three started in the centrifuge at Johnsonville, riding the wheel, using all his strength to keep conscious as it spun. He managed sixteen g’s. He came off, felt like hell, walked slowly toward the men’s room.
How was it? Conrad said, passing him, up next.
Easy, he said. Nothin to it.
Then he went into the john and vomited.
It was the end of January. Harrison waited in the lobby of the Holiday Inn for Lovell. The two men were due to meet George Smathers, ex-Marine officer, former assistant attorney and now senator for Florida, at a cocktail reception at six. Smathers was close to John Kennedy and Harrison admired him. The man had fought hard with LBJ on his decision to site the Manned Spacecraft Center in Texas instead of at the Cape. Harrison brushed dust from his suit and looked around.
You’re early, Lovell said, walking in from the stairwell.
You know how I love time in the barrel, Harrison said.
Best advice—and this is from Gordo—arrive late, leave early.
That’s some good advice.
All they want is a handshake, photograph with an astronaut, and a smile. That’s all. Then we get the hell out.
Getting the hell out sounds good, Harrison said.
We should go someplace tonight, eat something half-decent for a change, Lovell said.
Harrison agreed.
You ready? Lovell said.
Sure.
Let’s walk, Lovell said. It’ll take longer.
The Cape Canaveral Hilton was on North Atlantic Avenue, right on the beach. It looked like a white brick, an icebox coated in lumpy stucco render. Outside, the men finished their cigarettes in the cool air.
I heard Connie Hilton’s coming tonight, Lovell said as they walked inside.
No shit, Harrison said.
The receptionist directed them toward the lobby.
Jesus, Harrison said, as they stepped through the door. Gilruth’s here.
So’s Webb, Lovell said.
Well, he ain’t exactly one to miss an opportunity, Harrison said.
Come on, Lovell said. Let’s get ourselves some liquid propellant.
Harrison and Lovell found a waitress carrying champagne and helped themselves to a glass each.
There’s Deke, Harrison said.
They walked over to him. The lobby, with its fake Baccarat crystal chandeliers and replica Versailles paneling, was crowded. Women laughed and swung glasses around themselves while serious-looking men stood close by and smiled. The carpet was deep crimson, snagged and fraying in parts, cigarette burns scattered like black seeds.
Jeez, Lovell said. Even the Hilton looks low-rent here.
Cocoa’s finest, Harrison said.
Fellas, Deke said when they reached him.
Looks like a busy night for you, Harrison said.
Up to my ears in bullshit already, Deke said. I’m gonna need a shovel to get out of here.
Harrison sipped his drink and tapped his leg five times, the sharp edge of a shovel triggering a thought that immediately arrested his mind. Stay calm, he thought.
Is Hilton still here? Lovell said.
Connie?
Yeah.
No. Left half an hour ago, Deke said.
Smart guy, Harrison said.
Do I detect resentment at barrel-duties, Harrison? Deke said.
You’re goddamn right you do, Harrison said.
Well suck it up, Captain, Deke said. Everyone’s gotta do their time, unless they’re on the next flight, and even then, I guarantee you, some sonofabitch who needs reelecting will want to come on the loop to shoot the goddamn breeze while you’re up there. Hell, I hear the president himself wants to speak to whoever makes the first landing by telephone.
From the carrier? Lovell said.
From the surface, Deke said.
The surface? Harrison said. Because they’ve got nothing better to do after traveling a quarter of a million— I know, Deke said, I know.
For the love of God.
We were thinking, For All Mankind, actually, Deke said. Got a nice ring to it, hasn’t it?
Sums it all up, Lovell said.
I thought so, Deke said.
All right, all right, Harrison said.
Who’s been bitin your ass? Deke said.
Just can’t stand these sorta things, Harrison said, flexing his fingers five at a time.
Well try to enjoy your drink at least, Deke said.
Harrison felt his back prickle with sweat.
You know fellas, Harrison said, I’m just gonna step outside, get some air—be back in a— Heads up, Lovell said. Here comes Smathers.
Senator! Deke said. Well it’s good to see you too. I’ve got a coupla people I know you’re gonna want to meet. Jim, Jim—this is George Smathers; George, this is Jim Harrison and Jim Lovell, two of our finest astronauts.
It’s a pleasure, sir, Lovell said, extending his hand.
The pleasure is all mine, I assure you! Smathers said.
Senator, Harrison said, shaking his hand after Lovell.