It looked like a tangle of arms and legs in there, everyone bobbing, trying not to collide with each other.
While Griggs struggled to get things organized, Emma hung back in Node 1. Drifting in midair, she found herself slowly moving toward the cupola. The view beyond those windows took her breath away.
The earth stretched below in all its magnificence, a rim of stars crowning the gentle curve of the horizon. They were passing into night now, and below, she saw familiar landmarks slipping into darkness.
Houston. It was their first passover of the night.
She leaned close to the window, pressing her hand to the glass.
Oh, Jack, she thought. I wish you were here. I wish you could see this.
Then she waved. And she knew, without the slightest doubt, that somewhere in the darkness below, Jack was waving back.
July 29
Personal E-mail to, Dr. Emma Watson
From, Jack McCallum
Like a diamond in the sky. That’s what you look like from down here. Last night I stayed up to watch you pass over. Gave you a big wave.
This morning on CNN, you were being touted as Ms. Right Stuff. “Girl astronaut blasts off, doesn’t chip a nail,” or something equally hokey. They interviewed Woody Ellis and Leroy Cornell, and both of them were beaming like proud daddies. Congratulations.
You’re America’s sweetheart .
Vance and crew made a picture-perfect landing.
Bloodsucking reporters were all over poor Elill when he arrived in Houston. I caught a glimpse of him on TV—he looks like he’s aged twenty years. Services for Debbie are this afternoon. I’ll be there.
Tomorrow, I’ll be sailing on the Gulf.
Em, I got the divorce papers today, and I’ll be honest with you. It doesn’t feel good. Then, I guess it’s not supposed to, is it?
Anyway, they’re ready for us to sign. Maybe now that it’s finally over, we can get back to being friends again.
The way we used to be.
P.S. Humphrey’s a little shit. You owe me a new couch.
Personal E-mail to, Jack McCallum
From, Emma Watson
America’s sweetheart? Puh-leeze. This has turned into a high-wire act, with everyone on earth watching and waiting for me to screw up. And when I do, I’ll be the shoulda-sent-a-man Exhibit # 1. I hate that.
On the other hand, I do love it up here. How I wish you could see this view! When I look down at the earth and see how incredibly beautiful she is, I want to shake some sense into everyone living down there. If only they could see how small and fragile and very alone the earth is, surrounded by all this cold black space. They’d take much better care of her. Oh, here she goes again, getting teary-eyed about the home planet.
Shoulda sent a man. I’m happy to report the nausea’s gone. I can zip around from mod to mod with scarcely a twinge. I still get a little woozy when I catch an unexpected glimpse of earth through a window. It screws up my sense of up and down, and it takes me a few seconds to reorient. I’m trying to keep up the exercise, but two hours every day is a big chunk of time, especially when I’ve got so much to do.
Dozens of experiments to monitor, a zillion E-mails from Payload Operations, every scientist demanding top priority for their pet projects. Eventually, I’ll get up to speed.
But this morning I was so tired, I slept right through Houston’s wakeup music. Luther says they blasted us with Wagner’s Valkyrie! As for the divorce being final, it doesn’t feel good for me, either. But, Jack, at least we had seven good years.
That’s more than a lot of couples can say. I know you must be anxious to finish this business. I promise I’ll sign the papers as soon as I get home.
Don’t stop waving.
P.S. Humphrey never attacked my furniture. What did you do to upset him?
Emma turned off her laptop computer and folded it shut.
Answering personal E-mail was the last task of the day. She had looked forward to hearing from home, but Jack’s mention of the divorce had stung her. So he’s ready to move on,
While Griggs struggled to get things organized, Emma hung back in Node 1. Drifting in midair, she found herself slowly moving toward the cupola. The view beyond those windows took her breath away.
The earth stretched below in all its magnificence, a rim of stars crowning the gentle curve of the horizon. They were passing into night now, and below, she saw familiar landmarks slipping into darkness.
Houston. It was their first passover of the night.
She leaned close to the window, pressing her hand to the glass.
Oh, Jack, she thought. I wish you were here. I wish you could see this.
Then she waved. And she knew, without the slightest doubt, that somewhere in the darkness below, Jack was waving back.
July 29
Personal E-mail to, Dr. Emma Watson
From, Jack McCallum
Like a diamond in the sky. That’s what you look like from down here. Last night I stayed up to watch you pass over. Gave you a big wave.
This morning on CNN, you were being touted as Ms. Right Stuff. “Girl astronaut blasts off, doesn’t chip a nail,” or something equally hokey. They interviewed Woody Ellis and Leroy Cornell, and both of them were beaming like proud daddies. Congratulations.
You’re America’s sweetheart .
Vance and crew made a picture-perfect landing.
Bloodsucking reporters were all over poor Elill when he arrived in Houston. I caught a glimpse of him on TV—he looks like he’s aged twenty years. Services for Debbie are this afternoon. I’ll be there.
Tomorrow, I’ll be sailing on the Gulf.
Em, I got the divorce papers today, and I’ll be honest with you. It doesn’t feel good. Then, I guess it’s not supposed to, is it?
Anyway, they’re ready for us to sign. Maybe now that it’s finally over, we can get back to being friends again.
The way we used to be.
P.S. Humphrey’s a little shit. You owe me a new couch.
Personal E-mail to, Jack McCallum
From, Emma Watson
America’s sweetheart? Puh-leeze. This has turned into a high-wire act, with everyone on earth watching and waiting for me to screw up. And when I do, I’ll be the shoulda-sent-a-man Exhibit # 1. I hate that.
On the other hand, I do love it up here. How I wish you could see this view! When I look down at the earth and see how incredibly beautiful she is, I want to shake some sense into everyone living down there. If only they could see how small and fragile and very alone the earth is, surrounded by all this cold black space. They’d take much better care of her. Oh, here she goes again, getting teary-eyed about the home planet.
Shoulda sent a man. I’m happy to report the nausea’s gone. I can zip around from mod to mod with scarcely a twinge. I still get a little woozy when I catch an unexpected glimpse of earth through a window. It screws up my sense of up and down, and it takes me a few seconds to reorient. I’m trying to keep up the exercise, but two hours every day is a big chunk of time, especially when I’ve got so much to do.
Dozens of experiments to monitor, a zillion E-mails from Payload Operations, every scientist demanding top priority for their pet projects. Eventually, I’ll get up to speed.
But this morning I was so tired, I slept right through Houston’s wakeup music. Luther says they blasted us with Wagner’s Valkyrie! As for the divorce being final, it doesn’t feel good for me, either. But, Jack, at least we had seven good years.
That’s more than a lot of couples can say. I know you must be anxious to finish this business. I promise I’ll sign the papers as soon as I get home.
Don’t stop waving.
P.S. Humphrey never attacked my furniture. What did you do to upset him?
Emma turned off her laptop computer and folded it shut.
Answering personal E-mail was the last task of the day. She had looked forward to hearing from home, but Jack’s mention of the divorce had stung her. So he’s ready to move on,
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