Atmosphere

by Taylor Jenkins Reid

“You are courageous, Vanessa Ford,” Joan says. “Beyond all measure. You have proven yourself to be of stunning character. And I believe your father would be proud.”

“Will you tell Frances that I really wanted to fix the payload bay doors? Will you tell her that I was deeply conflicted?”

“Do you know why I kept saying the best song was ‘Space Oddity’?” Vanessa asks. “Because of your favorite part.” “When he says, ‘Tell my wife I love her very much…’ ” Vanessa says. “And then he says, ‘She knows,’ ” Joan says. “Yeah,” Vanessa says. “That’s it. That’s the best part of that song. But do you think she knows? Do you really think she knows?” “She knows,” Joan says. “She absolutely knows.” “Okay,” Vanessa says. “I can live with that.”

They are gone. They are gone. Vanessa is gone. Vanessa died somewhere over California, having proven herself to be the exact sort of person she had always hoped she was. And now Joan is left to bear it.

“Houston, this is Navigator. Lydia Danes is alive. I’m about to land at Edwards.”