lost in the desert—
Call Ridley, get him in the air! he said, and jumped over the fence. Florence!
Grace ran back inside and dialed the base.
C’mon, she said, c’mon.
As the call connected, Harrison burst into the living room with their daughter under his arm.
Look what I found running around the Joshua trees, he said.
Florence, she said, thank God. Jack? Sorry, Jack, we had a missing girl for a while there, but it’s all okay now. Yeah, we’re fine—she looked up at Harrison—I will. Thanks, Jack; bye.
She replaced the receiver, took Florence from her husband’s hands, and raised hell.
We could have lost you, Florence.
Sorry, Mommy, Florence said.
Grace sighed, and put her down.
That’s okay, sweetheart, she said, just … don’t do it again.
Florence stepped back to her father and wrapped her arms around his legs. He put his hand on her head. There was a terrific rumble from outside. Harrison cocked his head.
Quick, he said to Florence.
They ran into the yard.
Look! he said.
The airplane was barely fifty feet off the deck, climbing toward them from the runway. It grew larger and louder; he had to shout to make himself heard over the roar of the rocket plane.
It’s an XF-92, he said.
Florence covered her ears.
Delta-wing prototype!
She said something, but he didn’t hear.
Controls are hydraulically operated, he said. Very sensitive. Sneeze on the stick and you’ll corkscrew in.
They watched the plane pass overhead. The thunder fell to a low grumble.
That was Pete Everest, he said.
Florence, hands still covering her ears, stared at him reproachfully and said nothing. Over her shoulder, in the doorway, Grace smiled.
LONG BEACH,
CALIFORNIA
APRIL 1961
Most days, the three of them stayed by the pool. They ate salty fries and drank cold Coca-Cola through colorful straws. In the early evening, they’d walk along the beach, the heat bearable by the water, the sun a fat orange closing in on the sea. Their room was a double with a sofa made up for Florence, who would kick off her blankets in the night and wake early, cold from the air-conditioning.
It was late morning, ten before twelve, hot outside. Sunlight slid down the balcony door and lolled in a silver pool beneath the glass, starving the room of color.
Honey? Harrison said. Hon? Where’s my slacks?
Why are you yelling? Grace said. I’m in the bathroom, not Texas.
The gray ones? With the pockets? What time we meeting her?
Twelve-thirty, Grace said.
Goddamnit!
Jim!
Dadammit, Florence said.
See what I mean, Jim?
Jeez Louise, he said. Sorry already.
Who is Louise? Florence said.
We need to go, Harrison said.
The toilet flushed, Grace washed her hands and stepped out of the bathroom.
The diner is just around the corner, she said. Florence, get off the bed. Your slacks are hanging up in the bathroom. Florence! How many times do I have to tell you not to bounce on the bed?
But I’m bouncing, Mommy.
Off!
She slid off the mattress on her tummy. Harrison went into the bathroom, picked up his slacks, and came out.
Listen, Duckie, he said. Could you do Daddy a special favor? I need my watch from the table—he bent down—can you see it? Think you could get it for me?
Florence nodded and ran around the bed to fetch it.
We’re gonna be late, he said to Grace.
Then put on your slacks and find your shoes. And redo that tie. And stop worrying.
Here’s your watch, Daddy!
Well, hey, thanks Duck! he said. He kissed the top of her head and slid the heavy piece over his wrist, fixing it underneath.
Daddy gave me a kiss! Florence said.
Yes he did, Grace said. Now, come on, Duck, we need to find your shoes too. Jim, pass me your tie.
Harrison dressed and Grace handed back his tie, neatly knotted. He pulled it over his head and combed his hair in front of the mirror.
Right, he said. Let’s go.
Turn the light out, Grace said. I got the key.
I need to pee Mommy, Florence said.
Goddamnit, Harrison said.
Jim! How many
Call Ridley, get him in the air! he said, and jumped over the fence. Florence!
Grace ran back inside and dialed the base.
C’mon, she said, c’mon.
As the call connected, Harrison burst into the living room with their daughter under his arm.
Look what I found running around the Joshua trees, he said.
Florence, she said, thank God. Jack? Sorry, Jack, we had a missing girl for a while there, but it’s all okay now. Yeah, we’re fine—she looked up at Harrison—I will. Thanks, Jack; bye.
She replaced the receiver, took Florence from her husband’s hands, and raised hell.
We could have lost you, Florence.
Sorry, Mommy, Florence said.
Grace sighed, and put her down.
That’s okay, sweetheart, she said, just … don’t do it again.
Florence stepped back to her father and wrapped her arms around his legs. He put his hand on her head. There was a terrific rumble from outside. Harrison cocked his head.
Quick, he said to Florence.
They ran into the yard.
Look! he said.
The airplane was barely fifty feet off the deck, climbing toward them from the runway. It grew larger and louder; he had to shout to make himself heard over the roar of the rocket plane.
It’s an XF-92, he said.
Florence covered her ears.
Delta-wing prototype!
She said something, but he didn’t hear.
Controls are hydraulically operated, he said. Very sensitive. Sneeze on the stick and you’ll corkscrew in.
They watched the plane pass overhead. The thunder fell to a low grumble.
That was Pete Everest, he said.
Florence, hands still covering her ears, stared at him reproachfully and said nothing. Over her shoulder, in the doorway, Grace smiled.
LONG BEACH,
CALIFORNIA
APRIL 1961
Most days, the three of them stayed by the pool. They ate salty fries and drank cold Coca-Cola through colorful straws. In the early evening, they’d walk along the beach, the heat bearable by the water, the sun a fat orange closing in on the sea. Their room was a double with a sofa made up for Florence, who would kick off her blankets in the night and wake early, cold from the air-conditioning.
It was late morning, ten before twelve, hot outside. Sunlight slid down the balcony door and lolled in a silver pool beneath the glass, starving the room of color.
Honey? Harrison said. Hon? Where’s my slacks?
Why are you yelling? Grace said. I’m in the bathroom, not Texas.
The gray ones? With the pockets? What time we meeting her?
Twelve-thirty, Grace said.
Goddamnit!
Jim!
Dadammit, Florence said.
See what I mean, Jim?
Jeez Louise, he said. Sorry already.
Who is Louise? Florence said.
We need to go, Harrison said.
The toilet flushed, Grace washed her hands and stepped out of the bathroom.
The diner is just around the corner, she said. Florence, get off the bed. Your slacks are hanging up in the bathroom. Florence! How many times do I have to tell you not to bounce on the bed?
But I’m bouncing, Mommy.
Off!
She slid off the mattress on her tummy. Harrison went into the bathroom, picked up his slacks, and came out.
Listen, Duckie, he said. Could you do Daddy a special favor? I need my watch from the table—he bent down—can you see it? Think you could get it for me?
Florence nodded and ran around the bed to fetch it.
We’re gonna be late, he said to Grace.
Then put on your slacks and find your shoes. And redo that tie. And stop worrying.
Here’s your watch, Daddy!
Well, hey, thanks Duck! he said. He kissed the top of her head and slid the heavy piece over his wrist, fixing it underneath.
Daddy gave me a kiss! Florence said.
Yes he did, Grace said. Now, come on, Duck, we need to find your shoes too. Jim, pass me your tie.
Harrison dressed and Grace handed back his tie, neatly knotted. He pulled it over his head and combed his hair in front of the mirror.
Right, he said. Let’s go.
Turn the light out, Grace said. I got the key.
I need to pee Mommy, Florence said.
Goddamnit, Harrison said.
Jim! How many
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