Harry - Season 4
Wednesday, September 20 2006
Parson Residence, Titusville, FL
Stephanie’s black negligee fell perfectly around her backside as she walked away after delivering a good-night kiss to me. The fabric stopped just above said backside, revealing flawless skin flowing into the gentle hollow where her spine started.
It was a lot of skin. . .
I should have gone straight back to integral calculus, but I was stuck. I couldn’t quite kick the memory of her long, curly hair hanging all loose off to one side while even more skin was revealed by the neckline of her nightwear.
A man remembered a lot about the situation when his wife told him she was proud of him.
That was just the way of things.
But still. . .
Anybody looking on might have thought she was messing with me, looking extra-lovely, trying to tempt me into bed instead of finishing my coursework, but the truth was that she looked beautiful regardless of what she wore.
So why wasn’t I going to bed?
Because trying to get a master’s degree in Aerospace engineering and keep a full-time job in the space industry at Kennedy Space Center takes a lot of time. My supervisor, Phil, was supportive of my ambitions, but still expected me to fulfill his expectations without exception.
It equaled out to some rich, full days of work and lots of cheap, legal, addictive stimulants. I hadn’t resorted to coffee yet. I’m not saying my decision to fuel twenty-hour days with excessive soda was healthier, just that it smelled better to me.
Anyways, back to work. . .
*****
Wednesday, September 20 2006
Kennedy Space Center Headquarters Bldg., Merritt Island, FL
“You look like crap, Harry. How much sleep did you get?” Charley emerged from her car, parked three spaces away from my spot.
I smiled. Sleepily. “Honestly, I’d prefer not to think about it.”
“You’re going to need coffee.”
“I’ve developed habits, Charley. Things you’re too young and impressionable to know about.”
“Drinking that much soda will rot. . . everything, Harry.”
“Yeah, but it tastes good.” I opened the door for her. Once we'd badged in, I asked, “How do you like thermodynamics?”
“It’s like Shakespeare.”
“How’s that?”
Her smile was radiant. It wasn’t often she managed to lead me, her mentor, into a good pun. “Much ado about nothing.”
“Don’t let them hear you say that around here. Thermodynamics is the foundation of space flight. What we do and how we do it revolves around temperature. Surviving it, modifying it. . . It’s the whole game.”
“Let’s talk about you, Harry.”
“Really? You prefer orbital mechanics?”
“I always saw it as the foundation of space, honestly.”
“It’s step two. You can’t worry about orbital mechanics until you get up there, and you can’t get up there until you get everything to work together.”
“I have to understand how things work the way they work,” Charley smiled as she put her purse in the bottom desk drawer.
Before I sat in my own cubicle, I noticed her staring at her latest acquisition, a shiny new engagement ring. “I don’t know how you manage to do all this and keep a fiancée.”
Charley’s smile had already lost a little bit of its pep. “The same way you do it and keep a wife.”
*****
Wednesday, September 20 2006
Embry-Riddle Aeronautical University, Melbourne, FL
I made it to class on time.
Barely.
“Dude. . .”
I nodded to Chet, the guy who’d taken to sitting next to me every week even though the room that would easily hold forty people presently held nine. He wasn’t annoying – not exactly, anyway, but he was kind of different.
“What’s up in your world?” I asked as I started spreading my book and notes out on the white laminate tabletop.
Chet shrugged. “I’ve come up with my aerospace design project.”
“That’s cool,” I nodded. “Anything I’d understand?”
“I’m totally into JAG on tv. Dude’s a navy lawyer that flies an F14 Tomcat on the side. You ever see it?”
“His partner’s a babe,” I smiled.
“There’s a woman in there?” Chet laughed. “I’m all about the plane.”
“The Tomcat was the baddest thing in the air.”
“It is the baddest thing in the air.”
“For another two days,” I said. “The retirement ceremony is Friday, isn’t it?”
Chet looked like he’d just lost the love of his life. “Some nonsense about stopping Iran from stealing parts.”
“It’s a shame,” I said.
“It is,” Chet agreed. “That’s why I’m going to bring it back in my A-D project.”
“Those airframes have a lot of flight hours on them, Chet. There’s a lot that’s gone into the decision to end the program.”
“I’m not talking about reviving the old ones,” Chet said. “I’m going to design a new fighter. Same style of design, but something capable of working in space.”
*****
Thursday, September 21 2006
Parson Residence, Titusville, FL
There was no doubting the conventional wisdom – I should have gone straight to bed. I was nineteen hours into the day, and I’d be into tomorrow the same. And then the weekend would come.
And things would ease up.
A little. . .
The problem was, I’d spend what little night there was dreaming about work or school if I didn’t decompress a little, and that was worse than missing sleep entirely. I knew it wasn’t sustainable, but I also knew my limits.
I didn’t need volume on the TV. I knew the movie I was watching twenty minutes a day by heart. It was predictable, given I’d watched it an uncountable number of times. From a certain standpoint, I’d dreamt about it through the better portion of my life.
I was serious about Star Trek because the people in the shows (even the bad guys) were ostensibly explorers. Sure, they often found themselves in the middle of interstellar hijinks, but at the core, they were motivated by a desire to see what was out there and try to tame it.
I wanted to do that.
I was rational about it. I would never have the chance to discover something new in my lifetime the way they did almost weekly, but it didn’t stop the desire that had burned in me since I was old enough to discover that Mr. Scott was actually far cooler than Captain Kirk.
While marrying a woman like Stephanie had been a dream, it wasn’t myy only one.
*****
Thursday, September 21 2006
Kennedy Space Center Headquarters Bldg., Merritt Island, FL
“Harry, I need the orbital integrity assessment for CloudSat before close of business today.” Phil had the good sense to at least look chagrinned.
“That assessment isn’t due for another week.”
“Well,” Phil shrugged. “It’s due this afternoon, now. I’ll present it at the OA tomorrow morning.”
I did the math in my head. If Charley and I worked together seamlessly throughout the day, we might pull it off in time for me to make it to class.
“Charley?”
She turned in her chair. I had no doubt that she’d been listening since Phil walked up. “Can you help me pull a rabbit out of a hat?”
“No doubt,” Charley nodded confidently.
Phil’s smile lit notably. “Thank you both. I’ll expect it by–“
“End of day,” Charley interrupted. “We got that part. Go annoy someone else while we figure this out.”
Our supervisor’s visage dropped with his nod as he slunk back out of the cube farm to the land of closing office doors and padded swivel chairs.
“That was awesome, Charley,” I said. “Maybe not tactically advisable, but awesome.”
“Who the heck is he, anyway?”
“Our boss,” I said. “With a boss of his own to appease.”
I had the distinct impression that she bit back a colloquial comparison to him and a prominent bit of male anatomy before she said, “You’re sharper on the math than I am. I can start putting the presentation together with the template and working out the verbiage.”
“Let’s turn and burn,” I nodded, admitting to myself that she wasn’t entirely wrong about her assessment of our supervisor.
*****
Thursday, September 21 2006
Kennedy Space Center Headquarters Bldg., Merritt Island, FL
“Is it done?” Phil didn’t bother to look up from his computer.
“N—”
“Yes sir,” I snapped over what I was afraid would have been a little too much sass from Charley. “CloudSat will be stable for a long time.”
Phil’s gaze didn’t waver from his monitor. “Estimated reboost frequency?"
“I see no reason to check inside of a year. We can look at its numbers and go from there.”
“It’s all in the report, in your favorite font,” Charley said as she slapped the document on his desk in its shiny covered binding. “We both have night classes, boss. Can we move this along?”
Phil shot Charley a look that made her take a step back. “You’re both in school?”
She nodded.
“Go. Now. Both of you!” He shouted. We were halfway to his office door before he added much more reasonably, “Next time I go all tyrant on you, tell me you have a commitment, please. Now go learn something!”
We grabbed our collective belongings from our cubes and power-walked for the door.
“Dick,” Charley whispered under her breath.
“Him or me?” I asked, genuinely unsure.
“How does he not know two of his people are pursuing degrees at night?”
“Well, I didn’t tell him. What’s your excuse?”
“Who doesn’t get to know his people any better than that, Harry?” Charley snapped.
“Have you faced a project review with NASA before?” I asked as I fished my car keys out.
“No,” Charley admitted.
“Me neither,” I said. “I do, however, imagine I might forget more than my people’s extracurricular schedules when that day comes. He has to be under a lot of stress.”
*****
Thursday, September 21 2006
Embry-Riddle Aeronautical University, Melbourne, FL
The test was a surprise.
It may have been announced and I wasn’t paying attention, but more than likely, if it was, I just plain forgot.
Regardless, I was in the same position either way.
“You ready for this?” Chet asked.
“Not even remotely,” I said, not completely dishonestly.
It doesn’t matter what sort of an ugly spot you’re in – panic hurts far more than it helps. It clouds your thinking, causes you to rush, and once you do, rational thought is kind of over.
So I took a breath.
And then I read.
And then I gave a silent word of thanks to Phil Kress, my supervisor.
The test packet was six pages long. The first was a page filled with technical data on a ‘pretend’ satellite that looked suspiciously close to PARASOL. The second was a page of mathematical and gravitational constants and formulae, and the third, which had only two sentences printed at the top said, ‘Describe the orbital stability of the test article with as much accuracy and completeness as possible. Your work must not extend beyond the supplied blank pages, front and back.’
Dr. Dean said we had three hours.
I went at it, with, I believed, just the right amount of confidence. Chet was a design guy – he got up and handed in his test after about an hour and a half. I was re-reading and stepping back through my analysis right until the end.
The only thing I was sure about by the time it was over was that I wanted to learn all I could.
*****
Thursday, September 21 2006
Parson Residence, Titusville, FL
I really had no doubt I had done well on my test.
I felt good about it on the drive home.
I stopped immediately when I pulled into the driveway and found the bedroom light still on. Stephanie, like me, had to work in the morning, and frankly, she loved her sleep.
The fact that she was still awake made it abundantly clear that there was a problem.
Scents of what I guessed were mircrowavable lasagna greeted me as soon as I opened the door, and the fact that the portion sat in the sink less than half-eaten confirmed my suspicion there was a problem.
I could hear Steph’s footfalls on the wood laminate floor in the bedroom.
Sharp.
Quick.
The complete opposite of what someone who was trying to get ready for bed should sound like. Determined to find out what the problem was, I slipped off my shoes (my absolute favorite daily ritual) and shuffled down the short hallway from the kitchen.
Promulgated though it may have been, I smiled. “Hi.”
She didn’t even grace me with a look. “How was class?”
“Test caught me by surprise.
Honestly, I thought she was going to hit me. In a flash, she’d bolted straight, turned, and closed the space between us. Maybe it seemed so fast because I was tired, but the speed of her movement was just this side of inhuman.
And then she broke down.
Completely.
It was hours later before I got her calmed down and noticed the pregnancy test box in the bathroom garbage can.
The result was obvious.
So was the fact that I’d been clueless.
*****
Friday, September 22 2006
Kennedy Space Center Headquarters Bldg., Merritt Island, FL
“Harry. . . Charley. . .”
“Good morning, sir,” I nodded.
Phil’s breath hitched in a false start. “I came by to thank you for the work you did yesterday, but I find myself wondering what in hell happened to both of you.”
To her credit, Charley just shrugged. I know my smile was weak. “Keeping the ducks in a row is a full-time job.”
Phil looked back and forth between the two of us. “All caught up on your weekly evaluations?”
“Everything has at least a week before it needs reevaluation. It’s pretty stable right now,” Charley said. When Phil turned to me, I nodded agreement.
“So, you’re just down to busy work?”
Charley shrugged. I nodded again.
Phil smiled. Just a little. If you weren’t paying attention, you would have missed it, “Then go do busy work somewhere else. We’ll catch up on Monday.”
“What are you doing here?” Stephanie’s eyes glowed with the mischief her voice wouldn’t reveal.
“My supervisor pretty much told me to get out of his sight.”
“So, coming to HR seemed appropriate? You’re. . . reporting him?”
“Not really,” I grinned. “It seemed wiser than going home.”
“Those wives. . .” Stephanie started clearing her desk, giving me the answer to my un-asked question.
“A drive, and maybe some dinner?”
Steph nodded. “As long as you don’t mind being seen out with someone dressed like a schoolteacher.”
“School teachers look hot these days."
Her smiled returned, and so did a little light to my world.
*****
Saturday, September 22 2006
Parson Residence, Titusville, FL
Weekend mornings were worth waiting for. A stark contrast against mornings with Steph and me bustling about trying to get ready for another day of work and expectation-fulfilling, this was just. . . better.
Saturday morning orbital mechanics homework wasn’t the worst thing. It had taken a few minutes to get everything working after the best night’s sleep in a week, but once I got started working, I was engrossed until Stephanie’s kiss on my cheek startled me back to reality.
“Good morning,” she said sweetly.
“Good morning right back. You okay?”
“Close enough.” Morning definitely favored her and her black negligee.
I took a deep breath and wasn’t completely successful summoning a smile. “I’m glad you’re feeling better, but–“
“I shouldn’t have let myself get my hopes up. I know how shaky the odds are that we’ll have a baby, but that doesn’t mean I don’t still want one.”
“I don’t know how to help circle this up.”
She stepped forward and wrapped me in a warm, silky embrace. “Keep doing what you’re doing, Harry.”
“How is that enough?”
“I married you because you were enough. That hasn’t changed.”
“So. . . What are we going to do?”
“There’s nothing we can do about that, Harry. We both know that.”
“We can do something about today. What are we going to do?”
“I can see that you’ve got studying to finish this morning. You work on that while I do some housework this morning. It’s supposed to be warm this afternoon. I say we hit the beach and dinner.”
“Fair enough,” I smiled.
*****
Saturday, September 22 2006
Peacock Beach, Cape Canaveral, FL
“I’ll be honest, I kinda thought this was going to get the job done,” Stephanie said.
Hair up under a black baseball cap, sunglasses, long legs, sexy side-tie black bikini bottoms. . . there was a lot to see. Don’t get me wrong, either. I most definitely saw it, but it was her smile that pulled me back – the one that gently reminded me I had been somewhere else.
I pointed north, just beyond the last of the launch facilities along the coast. “It could be an oil tanker, but it almost looks like a baby aircraft carrier.”
“The past floating by the future?” Steph asked as she pushed herself up a little onto her arms to look.
I shrugged. “They combined them on Battlestar Galactica. Lorne Greene made it all work.”
“The guy from Bonanza?”
It required careful maneuvering to lean over and kiss her without interference from the bill of her hat, but I got to put a hand on her waist when I did it. Somehow, daydreams of lying aircraft carriers wandered away once I felt warm skin under my fingers.
Steph met my kiss, and then its friends before she settled back onto her towel with an even more radiant smile. “Easy there, spaceboy.”
“I was just getting started,” I pouted.
“So was I,” she laughed, patting her bare stomach. “Need some fish and chips in there first. Hear the hollow sound?”
“You think you can just tap your belly and get a free meal?” I laughed as I started collecting our things.
“Yup.”
*****
Sunday, September 23 2006
Parson Residence, Titusville, FL
It’s really late, because I’ve been up studying. Why? Because, except for spending time with Steph, what the hell else would I be doing? Aerospace engineers aren’t born with knowledge of orbital mechanics ingrained into our brains.
We have to learn it. Learning takes time and effort. So, dear keeper of memories, that’s why this has fallen the way it has. . .
It’s interesting, though. I can pick at least three sci-fi series out right now that feature some sort of a space-going aircraft carrier. That must be ingrained into a certain male psyche at birth, or maybe we all just watched Battlestar Galactica at the same time and thought it was a cool idea.
I hear the new one’s pretty good.
Some day, I’ll actually have time to sit down and watch it, too.
It had me looking at Chet and his idea about reimagining the Tomcat differently.
Dreaming deserved its own portion at the table of time. Maybe it got a small plate, but it deserved to be filled like the others. It was vital to keep an imagined future worth pursuing at front of mind.
Nothing else made so much damned hard work worth doing.
And the end was here. . . If there’s one thing I’ve realized, it’s that once you’re a certain distance off of the path, there’s no use trying to go back. With my stuff packed back in my bag, I found myself staring at the wall.
Wondering what tomorrow might bring.
