Chapter Nineteen #2
“Maybe I’m afraid it’s the other way around,” Joe replied, matching her teasing tone with a more serious one. “Maybe I found something that means more to me now.”
“I was just joking, Joe. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have given you the impression otherwise. I wouldn’t ask you to choose—not between me and flying. Or me and space.”
“You say that now, but this lifestyle isn’t the easiest. I’ve seen what the other guys go through in their relationships, in their marriages.
It’s part of why I never wanted that for myself.
We get the glory, and the family gets stuck with the hardships.
It’s a lot to ask anyone to bear and it’s a lot of strain to put on any marriage. ”
“I know the risks. I know the weight families are forced to carry.”
Maybe she had been too young at the time to remember what it was like when she lost her father, but she was all too familiar with the risks and the aftermath of tragedy.
“I worry that you’ll regret it.”
“I worry about that, too,” she admitted.
“Why me?” Vivian asked after a beat. “Why did you want to be with me?”
“I don’t know. I’ve asked myself that a thousand times, and I still couldn’t tell you. I hope you don’t take this the wrong way, but I’ve often thought that you have the absolute worst personality for this lifestyle.”
Vivian laughed despite what he said. “I don’t disagree with you at all.
I truly cannot imagine a worse role for me.
I worry constantly. And after a childhood spent moving, all I want is to stay in one place, to have some measure of certainty in my life, to have a home and a career, and the comfort of stability.
To build a life for myself somewhere where I feel as though I am part of a community, and I have a routine. I want a boring, quiet life.”
It wasn’t until she got to the end of her speech that she realized how true the words she spoke were; it wasn’t until tears had begun to fall on her cheeks that she realized how much she mourned the loss of her dream, how lonely she’d been since he started training.
She’d seen how stressed-out he was, how worried he was, and she hadn’t wanted to add to his plate, but she also wasn’t sure how much longer she could hold it inside.
“I know,” Joe whispered. “I’m sorry.”
Perhaps if he had dismissed her words, Vivian would have been able to shrug the whole thing off, to tell herself that really she should be tougher about the entire business, that she should learn to deal with the difficult parts of his job, but it was the emotion in his voice that unraveled her instead, because despite everything, it seemed like he understood.
“I don’t know how to do this,” Vivian added.
“Do what?”
“All of it. I don’t—” Vivian struggled to find the words, to tell him how she felt without saying the sorts of things she didn’t think you were supposed to say in a marriage.
“I love you. I don’t know how not to love you.
But sometimes—sometimes it feels like I’m losing part of myself here.
This version of me that I feel like everyone wants me to be—I miss working.
I miss the life we had before when everything was simpler.
I don’t want to be on magazine covers. I don’t want to give interviews, and knowing that’s what the future holds if you’re selected as an astronaut—
“It feels”—Vivian took a deep breath—“it feels like all the other wives have this playbook that they follow, and I never got my copy. They’re always so poised and they are so dedicated to the mission. I don’t—”
How did she explain it to him? That this was his dream, and so of course she wanted it for him, wanted to make him proud, wanted to be an asset to him like the other wives seemed to be for their husbands, but she didn’t care about the mission, didn’t care if the United States went to the Moon beyond the fact that he wanted it.
“You don’t have to do any of that, then, Viv.
I didn’t marry you because I wanted you to be my cheerleader.
I married you because you’re the most interesting person I know.
Because you’re loyal and you feel things deeply.
I married you because I couldn’t imagine spending my life with anyone else, because what we have is special.
I don’t want a day to go by when you’re not by my side.
In this unpredictable, chaotic world, you remind me of what matters. ”
A strangled sound escaped from her lips somewhere between a laugh and a sob.
“That’s the problem, you see. Every time you fly, every time we talk about the reality of you going to space, I worry that you’re not going to come back.
And the thing is—I never wanted to get married.
I’ve been on my own for so long, I envisioned myself being on my own.
Paying the bills and managing the household feel easy to me, and I know that if I was by myself again, I would manage just fine.
Or at least, I would endure. But I can’t imagine what it would feel like to have what we have, to know what it’s like to feel this way, and then to lose it all. ”
“Viv. I know.”
“I hate that I feel like this. Hate that I’m scared all the time. I wish I could push the thoughts out, but even when I try my hardest, even when I think I’ve succeeded, they always creep back.”
“Nothing is going to happen to me.”
“You can’t promise me that.”
“I can,” he shot back. “I’m a good pilot; no, I’m a great pilot.”
She laughed despite the tears spilling down her cheeks, his confidence apparently returned once more. “Tell me what you really think.”
What would it be like to go through life with such brash confidence?
She couldn’t fathom it, wasn’t entirely used to it despite their time together.
She worried about every move she made, doubted every decision, and sat back and watched as he launched himself at life with wild abandon.
And as surprising as his loss of confidence had been moments ago, there was something peaceful knowing that he was back to believing in himself, because it was that belief that kept him safe, that would eventually take him to the Moon.
“You know it’s true.”
She did.
He was a great pilot, had worked for years to get to this point in his career, to achieve a milestone many had dreamed of but very, very few would ever reach.
“Fine, let’s take the issue of whether or not I’m a great pilot and try it this way—have I ever broken a promise to you?”
“No.”
She’d learned that early on in their relationship—that when Joe gave his word about something, he meant it, wholly, completely. It was one of the things she admired most about him.
“Then I’ll make you a promise now. I’ll always come back to you. Always.”
“You can’t make a promise like that. No one can.”
“I can and I will.”
Vivian looked into his eyes, and she saw the conviction there, the confidence that had been missing earlier.
And that was when she realized what had happened—that when he felt scared, when he had doubts, she became someone he could lean on, someone who could help him find his way back to himself when he was lost. And when she felt the same way, he in turn offered his strength to her.
“How are we going to make this work?” she asked him.
“I don’t know,” Joe replied. “But we will.”
—
Vivian was wiping down the countertops in the kitchen in their rental home in Houston when Joe came home, beaming from ear to ear.
“We need to talk,” he said, scooping her up in his arms and twirling her around, her feet just off the ground.
“Not exactly words a girl likes to hear,” she joked, the look on his face making her stomach lurch.
She knew that look. Recognized that gleam in his eyes.
He set her down on her feet.
“How do you feel about being married to an astronaut?” he asked her.
“Depends on the astronaut.” Tears filled her eyes. “You made it?”
He nodded, his own eyes filled with a wet sheen.
She’d never been so happy and so terrified in all her life.