Upstairs, Pancho said to Harrison.
Exhausted, with a blanket he’d found on the cockpit floor wrapped around him, he traipsed into the house and climbed the stairs. Pancho followed.
That’s your room, she said, pointing to a green door at the end of the landing. It’s all made up for you. Go to sleep. And no funny business. I don’t want you banging on my door in the middle of the night looking for hot sex. Tomorrow we’re making a goddamn plan.
You done being pissed at me?
I’m never gonna be done being pissed at you. But I just flew a solid day to bring your sorry ass home.
How’d you stay awake?
Who said I did?
Tuck me in?
Get the hell out of my sight.
MOJAVE DESERT
MUROC, CALIFORNIA
MARCH 1966
The next morning Pancho banged on his door early and fixed eggs and coffee for breakfast. After they’d eaten, she took out a pack of Pall Malls and lit one. She offered the pack to Harrison who took one and lit it with Pancho’s lighter and sat back and sipped his coffee. Pancho leaned forward and looked at him.
Good coffee, he said.
Here’s how this is gonna work, she said. As you know, Deke an I been talkin. You’re welcome to stay here for as long as you want. It’s your room. But there’s three conditions. First off, you help me out with the planes. Maintenance, repairs, refueling anyone who ties up; that kinda thing. Second, you see a NASA shrink. It won’t go on your record. Deke’s seen to that. Third, you give Deke a call when you feel right. Said he’ll give you a seat on the next available mission.
Harrison thought for a moment and said, okay.
Good, Pancho said, because the other option was to drive you out into the mountains and kick you out in your underwear. Speakin of which, there’s some clothes upstairs Billy Horner left behind, probably fit you. Landwirth is gonna get your stuff sent down from the Cape; out of his own pocket too, dumb bastard, so make sure you call him.
I will, he said.
I just thought of another rule, Pancho said.
Are you just gonna make them up as we go?
Rule number four: I don’t want to hear any of that crappy NASA jargon round here. I can’t stand it. You want to speak like a goddamn robot, you can do that in your room, on your own.
Should I be writin these down?
Rule number five.
Jesus!
Rule number five! Rule number five is no backtalk!
All right! All right!
Harrison got to work on the Mystery Ship, fixing her up after their long flight. He worked outside, hot wind blowing in his face, like it had always done. He’d forgotten how quiet the desert was. He worked alone, and would often have to sit for long periods in the hangar. Afterward, he’d go out and look at the sand and the sky then get back to work. His mind calmed a little. The ache in his side eased as his ribs healed. He wanted to ask Pancho about Grace. He’d not spoken to her for a long time. And Pancho had not mentioned her once.
He’d been back a couple of weeks when he had a phone call from the secretary of a Doctor Baum. Baum was a private psychiatrist NASA had employed while selecting the original Mercury astronauts. He worked a day a week at the Antelope Valley in Lancaster. Harrison would be seen then. They would review progress every two months. The first time they met, Harrison knew they weren’t going to get on. Baum looked like a tall glass of tonic with no gin, thin and serious and slightly bitter.