Atmosphere

by Taylor Jenkins Reid

Though four years younger, Barbara snuck out to her first party before Joan, had her first kiss before Joan, had her first drink before Joan. What could Joan offer someone so much more worldly than her? How could Barbara look up to someone so far behind?

‘You have to have something on the line, for it to be called character.’ ”

Astronomy was history. Because space was time. And that was the thing she loved most about the universe itself. When you look at the red star Antares in the southern sky, you are looking over thirty-three hundred trillion miles away. But you are also looking more than five hundred and fifty years into the past. Antares is so far away that its light takes five hundred and fifty years to reach your eye on Earth. Five hundred and fifty light-years away. So when you look out at the sky, the farther you can see, the further back you are looking in time. The space between you and the star is time.

Bravery is being unafraid of something other people are afraid of. Courage is being afraid, but strong enough to do it anyway.”

Joan also liked his sunglasses. He wore dark-tinted aviators that made him look like a movie star.

“You screamed very loudly just now,” Vanessa said at the doorway. “It sounded so dainty and helpless. I worry you’ll set women back centuries if any man hears it.”

Vanessa looked at Joan. “Sometimes I don’t know if I knew my dad or I just created a man out of thin air, as a god to pray to.” “Well.” Joan sat down on the blanket. She opened the cooler and grabbed a beer. “Maybe it’s both and maybe that’s okay.”

Because the world had decided that to be soft was to be weak, even though in Joan’s experience being soft and flexible was always more durable than being hard and brittle. Admitting you were afraid always took more guts than pretending you weren’t. Being willing to make a mistake got you further than never trying. The world had decided that to be fallible was weak. But we are all fallible. The strong ones are the ones who accept it.