“You’ll never guess what you missed, Jillian,” he said. “A very big event.”
“What did I miss?” she asked.
“The President called.”
Jillian brought the wheelchair to an abrupt halt. “The President?” she asked.
“Of the United States of America,” Spencer filled in, as if to distinguish him from other presidents. “He called this morning and told us that me and Alex were true American heroes. He wants us to go to Washington, D.C. so we can shake his hand in the Rose Garden. How do you like that? Being married to a true American hero.”
“I love it,” said Jillian simply.
“I figured.”
“What did you say to the President?”
“Well,” said Spencer, “I said that we would not have had a chance to be great American heroes if he and Congress hadn’t cut our budget and forced us to put a piece of shit exploding satellite into orbit up there.”
“You did not say that,” said Jillian flatly. Al-though, knowing her husband as she did there was always the possibility that he had been less than respectful.
“But that’s not all,” Spencer continued.
“Really?”
Spencer nodded. “Then he said, as a way of showing his appreciation, he was going to send me a new car. A special new car, just for being a hero.”
“How special?” Jillian asked, playing along now.
“The special kind that brows up when I put the key in the ignition,” said Spencer deadpan.
Abruptly Jillian spun the wheelchair around until they were face-to-face. “Spencer Armacost, did the President call you?”
Spencer nodded. “Yes, he did.”
“And what did you say to him?”
Spencer opened his mouth to reply, but his wife cut him off, holding up her hand like a cop stopping traffic. “Ah-ah-ah,” she cautioned. “Don’t you lie to me.”
“I wasn’t going to lie… After he called me an American hero I said, ‘Thank you very much, sir.’ ”
Jillian laughed leaned down and kissed him lightly, then turned the wheelchair back toward the door. “Now that’s a little more like it,” she said.
“Then I asked him what he was wearing and he hung up on me. Why do you think he did that? Can you imagine, me—an American hero and I get such disrespect.”
“Amazing,” said Jillian. “Some people just didn’t learn good manners. ”
“My feelings exactly,” said Spencer. He climbed out of the wheelchair and stretched. “I’ll take it from here.” NASA had the ability to turn a public relations disaster into public relations gold. No sooner had Alex Streck and Spencer Armacost been released from the hospital, allowed a couple of days at home for a little rest and rehabilitation, then the press department of the agency called them back to the Cape for a space shuttle Victory victory celebration. It was a perfect opportunity for a carefully staged photo-op. And the icing on the cake was that the public had been invited.
Jillian Armacost and Natalie Streck sat with the wives of the astronauts on the mission on a bleacher erected on the lawn in front of the main administration building. Jammed in with them were dozens of tourists, curiosity seekers, and space buffs who ranged in age from eight to eighty.
The bleacher faced a huge American flag with the entire crew of the Victory posed in front of it. Over their heads flapping in the light breeze was a huge banner that read simply: WELCOME BACK!
A phalanx of photographers fired roll after roll of film at the seven astronauts, calling out to them by name to look this way and that. And to smile— above all to smile. The danger had passed, the program was back on track, and if you didn’t believe it, here was photographic proof. The picture would appear around the world by that time tomorrow. The astronauts looked happy, the NASA officials looked happy. The spectators were delighted.
Only Natalie and Jillian looked concerned. They spoke in whispers, not daring to risk being over-heard.
“Jill,” Natalie asked. “Spencer…does he ever talk about it? About what happened?”
Jillian looked from the photo shoot and then back at the very worried-looking Natalie.
“How do you mean?” she asked warily, trying to stave off a series of painful questions. Questions she had asked herself since the day it all happened.
“I mean… does he ever say anything about what it was like?” Natalie hissed. “Did Spencer ever tell you what it was like? About what happened when they were alone up there?”
Jillian shook her head and touched Natalie’s arm lightly. “It’s okay, Natalie. They’re back. Don’t beat yourself up over it. Try to forget. Try to put it behind you.” She spoke with a firm self-confidence she did not feel at all.
Natalie was not fooled by this show of certainty. She sensed that Jillian’s brave face was nothing more than a mask, a facade. “He doesn’t talk about it, does he?” She did not wait for a response, feeling that she knew the answer already. “I know he doesn’t talk about it,” she went on. “Neither does Alex. Never. Not a word.”
Jillian nodded. “It must have been horrible,” she said. “Why would they want to relive it?”
“How could they not?” Natalie said, her voice rising slightly above her discreet whisper. “You’re right, it must have been horrible. Those two minutes, they almost died, Jillian. I have thought of nothing else since it happened. So they must, too. It’s only natural.”
“But they didn’t die,” Jillian protested. “They didn’t die. They came back and they’re well again.” She looked over at the crew. All of them seemed genuinely happy. And why wouldn’t they? Alex and Spencer had cheated death. It must be an exhilarating feeling. At least, it should be, shouldn’t it?
Natalie could not leave it alone. The experience of the two men went around and around in her brain. “But they almost did, and to go through that, and never mention it. Never.”
“Give them time, Natalie,” said Jillian. “You have to give them time to understand what happened. It’s not the sort of thing you can take in all at once, not something you can consume whole. It will take a long time for them to figure it all out. You have to believe that, Natalie. It makes sense, right?”
A look of pity came into Natalie’s brown eyes. She had the feeling that Jillian was speaking from the heart—but for different reasons. “I know this must be hard for you, Jill.”
“It’s hard for everyone, Natalie.”
“No,” Natalie persisted, “hard for you in particular. I remember how bad it got for you after your parents died. It must have been horrible. Just like this is.”
Natalie had crossed a line. Jillian’s face turned cold and her words were clipped. She looked right at Natalie. “This has absolutely nothing to do with that,” she said.
“It just scares me, Jillian,” said Natalie, oblivious to the stab of pain she had jabbed into her friend. “It just scares me that he acts like it never happened.”
Jillian looked from Natalie and then back to the photo shoot, which seemed to be coming to an end. Spencer and Alex were talking, their heads together as if they were whispering conspiratorially. Except for the cane that Alex Streck leaned against rather casually, neither men looked as if they had just survived a near miss with death in space followed by stays in the hospital. Spencer appeared to glow with health and Alex Streck seemed to have shed a few pounds and a few years, as if he had spent a week in a spa rather than having done excruciating time in a NASA intensive care unit.
As the photographers packed up their gear and the Victory crew dispersed. Jillian watched as two self-conscious kids edged into the scene. Both carried pictures of the Victory that the public relations guys had papered the visitors area with earlier that day. Spencer saw them looking longingly in his direction and he motioned to them, waving them over.