Taking Off (16 page)

The voice was so calm, as if this were commonplace and there was nothing to worry about. A chill crept through me, heavy and bleak.

“WE HAVE NO DOWNLINK.”

“It’s gone,” said the man in front of me. “It’s gone,” he said again as if to convince himself.

I looked at the sky once more. My eyes hurt.

Christa.

For the first time, I understood.
Shock
. The faces around me were frozen, no sadness pulling at the eyes, no anger tightening the mouth … just shock.

Then hands were over eyes, on cheeks, at throats, on arms close by as people stared into the sky. A woman beside me fell to the ground, still looking up. I heard crying, then realized it was me.

“WE HAVE A REPORT FROM THE FLIGHT DYNAMICS OFFICER THAT THE VEHICLE HAS EXPLODED. THE FLIGHT DIRECTOR CONFIRMS THAT. WE ARE LOOKING AT CHECKING WITH THE RECOVERY FORCES TO SEE WHAT CAN BE DONE AT THIS POINT.”

I looked at Tommy. “Annie,” he said, wiping my tears away. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

Dad was looking up, his face weary.

I grabbed his arm. “Daddy?”

He threw his arm around me and pulled me close. I looked back up at the cold blue sky that couldn’t be more beautiful, and the debris falling, leaving white sad strands in their wake, like a twisted fireworks display.

A sick sense of dread hit me, settling deep, but at its darkest place was fear.

“Daddy’s here, baby.”

CHAPTER 35

I
stayed huddled into my dad. I couldn’t stop crying.

Another announcement came on:

“WE WILL REPORT MORE AS WE HAVE INFORMATION AVAILABLE. AGAIN, TO REPEAT, WE HAVE A REPORT RELAYED THROUGH THE FLIGHT DYNAMICS OFFICER THAT THE VEHICLE HAS EXPLODED. WE ARE NOW LOOKING AT ALL THE CONTINGENCY OPERATIONS AND AWAITING WORD FROM ANY RECOVERY FORCES IN THE DOWNRANGE FIELD.”

People were standing around, like they were still trying to figure it out. Some faces were blank; sadness contorted others. Many were crying. I didn’t like looking at their faces. I wanted to leave, but I still hoped.

“Do you think they can save them, Dad?” I asked.

He shook his head. “I don’t know, but I don’t think so, Annie.”

“But isn’t there a chance they survived the explosion?” I bit my lip. I couldn’t stop the tears running down my face. “They could be in the water.”

“Annie, even if they survived that,” he said, waving at the sky, “they would have … died when the … shuttle hit the ocean.”

“But then why are they even talking about recovery teams? If there’s no hope?”

“Annie.” He put his hand on my cheek. “I’m so sorry, baby.”

“Because they didn’t say ‘rescue,’ they said ‘recovery’? Is that why you think that?” I wanted answers, needed them.

I heard the loudspeaker crackle and turned to it:

“THIS IS MISSION CONTROL, HOUSTON. WE HAVE NO ADDITIONAL WORD AT THIS TIME.”

“Oh, come on,” a man yelled out, throwing up his hands. But the announcements then continued:

“REPORTS FROM THE FLIGHT DYNAMICS OFFICER INDICATE THAT THE VEHICLE APPARENTLY EXPLODED AND THAT IMPACT IN THE WATER WAS AT A POINT APPROXIMATELY 28.64 DEGREES NORTH, 80.28 DEGREES WEST.”

Tommy looked at his watch. “Five minutes. It’s only been five minutes since they launched.” His face looked stunned.

I couldn’t stop crying. I pressed my fingers to my eyes, but the tears kept flowing. “I have to get out of here.” I wanted to go home. I wanted to be in my house. I wanted to see my mom’s face. I even wanted to see Mark.

I walked toward the car.
Christa, Christa, Christa.

“Annie!” Dad yelled.

“I want to go home!” I yelled back.

I wanted to wash away that horrible image of the shuttle becoming white smoke in a rich blue sky. The sky should not be so blue for a moment like this. I would always remember the color of that sky that ate dreams.

I lay down in the backseat with my face turned to the vinyl. I heard voices, the trunk open, the doors open. Neither my dad nor Tommy said anything when they got in the car. My chest hurt. My throat hurt. I couldn’t talk. I didn’t want anyone to talk.

The car began moving.

I kept seeing Christa’s smile. I shut my eyes. I didn’t want to see anything but dark. I didn’t want to hear anything but the sound of the tires on the road. That sound was the only thing soothing me right now. It reminded me of Mark, of our sunrise trips to Galveston to fish or to surf, with me half asleep listening to the road in the quiet of the morning. Peaceful times, safe, certain, knowable. Not like this.

Finally, we made it to the hotel.

“Annie, here’s a blanket,” said my dad, as he covered me up. “Just stay here, baby girl. We have to get the bags.”

“We’ll be right back,” I heard Tommy say.

I lay still and thought about all the families of the astronauts. The kids, the wives, the husbands, the moms, the dads, had all come out on this brilliant blue day. It was families, excitement, fun, ocean, Disney World.

But now it was this, a rapid plummet to a darker side of dreams.

Dad and Tommy were gone for a while. Finally, the car doors opened again.

“Do you want me to drive, Jesse?” I heard Tommy ask.

“I will,” Dad answered.

The car was moving.

My head was pounding. I was going home.

CHAPTER 36

D
ad sprang for a room at the Holiday Inn. I’d heard him talking to Tommy about whether they should drive straight through. Dad quietly said he wanted to get me out of the car for a little bit.

“Come on, baby,” Dad said, opening the door.

“Where are we?” I asked.

“We’re outside of Tallahassee.”

“What time is it, Dad?”

“After ten,” he said, helping me out of the car.

“I’ll get the bags,” Tommy said.

I crawled into the bed after swallowing some Tylenol. I tried not to move my head because it would pound harder if I shifted on the pillow. It hurt so much that my stomach hurt too. Nausea and pain enveloped me.

The room was quiet and dark, and the sheets felt good against my skin. But I was so cold. It was an ice cold that crept through me, like I would never be warm or happy or trusting again. I buried my head in my pillow so no one would hear me cry.

CHAPTER 37

W
e got up with the sun. When the guys went to load up the car, I called Lea. I knew she’d still be asleep because it was only six a.m. or so in Houston. I was glad she was the one who answered the phone. I didn’t want to talk to her parents.

“Annie? Where are you?” asked Lea.

“Not so loud, Lea,” I said quietly. “My head hurts a little.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s better today,” I said. “We’re still in Florida. But we’re on our way back. Dad says we’ll be home in eleven or twelve hours.”

“It’s terrible. So terrible. Did you see it?”

“Yeah. The shuttle just wasn’t there anymore, Lea. It was just smoke.” I bit tears back.

“My mom’s so upset. Her eyes were red and swollen this morning. I heard her crying last night.”

I wanted to be home. “Lea, I have to go, okay?” I wanted to be with my own mom.

“When will you get home?”

“It’ll be really late.”

“Are you going to school tomorrow?”

“I don’t know. What day is it, Lea? I’m so mixed up.”

“It’s Wednesday.”

“Okay, well, I’ll get in too late for school tomorrow. I’ll be too tired.” But I found I wanted to go, to be back in my normal routine. I wanted to see Mark. I had to see him.

“Mom said they’re going to have a memorial service.”

“Where?” I asked.

“Here. I mean, at the space center. President Reagan is coming.”

“Lea, can I go?”

“I don’t know, Annie. I don’t think they’ll let others in. It’s just for the families and the employees. Mom and Dad are going, but—”

“I really want to go, Lea. No, I mean I
have
to go.”

“Okay, I’ll ask Mom. Call me tomorrow, okay? First thing?”

“First thing.”

I called Mom next.

“Annie! Are you okay?”

“Yeah.”

“You don’t sound okay. Where are you?”

Hearing my mom’s calm voice made my throat feel tight. “Mom.” It was good to hear her voice. “We’re still in Florida. Outside of Tallahassee or Pensacola. I really don’t know. We’re leaving now.”

“Good, good. Grandma called. She’s so worried about you. Are you all right?”

“Yeah,” I said. “No, Mom. I’m not.”

“I’m so sorry, sweetheart. I know how much this meant to you.”

“I want to be home, Momma.”

“I want you home,” she said, with a sad sigh. “Put your dad on, honey. I need to talk to him.”

“I can’t, Mom. He’s paying for the room.”

“Okay. When will you be here?”

“Late.”

“I’ll wait up,” she said.

“No, Mom. It’ll be late. I’ll come wake you up. Make sure you’re there, okay?”

“Of course I’ll be here, Annie.”

“I have to go. See you tonight.”

I stared at the phone. I picked up the receiver and dialed again.

“Mark?”

“Thank God, Annie! You haven’t called. And then this happened. I’ve been so worried.”

“I know. I’m sorry. We’re on our way back.”

“Are you okay, Annie?” Mark asked.

“I’m all right.”

“Why didn’t you call?” he asked.

“I just— We’ve been busy, Mark.”

“I wish you would have called. I called your mom and she said that you were fine and at Disney World.”

“Don’t be mad at me right now, Mark.”

“I’m sorry. I’ve just been worried. Are you okay?” he asked.

I took a ragged sigh. “Not really. I just want to be home.”

“When will you be here? I’ll come over.”

“It’ll be late, Mark. I don’t even know when. I’ll call tomorrow.”

“You need to call, Annie. You need to call me when you get here.”

“I will. I have to go.”

“I love you. Bye.”

“Bye, Mark.”

I sat by the phone for a long time. I was afraid to turn on the TV. It usually brought me comfort, but today it didn’t seem to offer any. Part of me just didn’t want to hear what the newspeople had to say, especially about Christa. But I also wanted to hear something about her, to have some connection to her, even if it was through the news.

I sat down on the floor and turned on the TV. And then I couldn’t stop watching.

All the stations were showing liftoff and the shuttle disappearing into fire and smoke over and over. I hadn’t been able to see the explosion from the ground. But the cameras caught a closer view.

So much of the news was centered on Christa. They showed clips of old interviews. How could she be talking right there, looking so alive, with so much energy and spirit, and not be here anymore?

To cover the launch, reporters had been at Concord High School in New Hampshire, where Christa taught. The camera showed students in an auditorium watching before liftoff, wearing party hats. When the shuttle rose from the pad, they blew horns and threw confetti. But then their faces fell.

“She was a part of us,” said one girl. “She was part of a family.” I reached out and touched the screen, the girl’s face. “She’ll be remembered,” she said. Another said, very calmly, “It was a hell. Just a hell.”

I wished I was there with them, to be around people who cared about her, who were inspired by her. I knew I wasn’t her student. But wasn’t she the nation’s teacher now? Wasn’t that what it was supposed to be about? I turned off the TV.

I wondered where Tommy and Dad were. Looking out the window, I saw them huddled over the engine of the car.

“No,” I said out loud to no one. “No.”

I ran outside, slamming the door, not caring who I woke.

“What’s wrong with the car, Dad?”

He looked over at me with a worried face. “It’s an easy fix, baby. I promise.”

“Don’t ‘baby’ me. I thought you got it fixed!” Tommy gave me a look. I must be really yelling, but I didn’t care.

“This is a different problem. I just need to get the auto parts—”

“Not again!”

“You need to calm down.” He wouldn’t look at me. He ducked his head back under the hood.

“Look at me, Dad!”

He wouldn’t. “I’m going to fix the car, Annie.”

“You can’t fix it. You can’t fix anything. Everything is always broken around you.” I stomped off around the side of the hotel, having no idea where I was going. I couldn’t believe I was going to miss the memorial service. Even if Lea’s parents did everything they could to get me in, my
stupid
father would mess it all up.

I heard footsteps running toward me from behind. I didn’t turn around.

“Annie,” Tommy said. “Annie.” He grabbed my arm, trying to slow me down.

“Tommy, don’t. I need to be alone.”

“Talk to me for a minute. Just a minute. Then you can go off, okay?”

He was so calm, it calmed me a little. And the fact that he didn’t tell me to calm down made me feel better.

“Okay?” he asked. “Just for a minute?”

I gave him a quick nod.

“Okay,” he said. “Let’s sit here.” He pointed toward the pool area. We sat in cold metal chairs. I pulled my gloves out of my pocket and put them on. I noticed Tommy was wearing the red scarf I made him. I stared at the unused swimming pool.

We sat for a few minutes, neither one saying anything.

Slowing down was making me less angry, but more sad. I didn’t like the feeling. I’d rather be angry. It felt like I had some control when I was angry, even if I really didn’t. Being sad was just hopeless.

Tommy took my hand. “I’m sorry, Annie. I’m so sorry.”

I felt my lip trembling, and I couldn’t stop it. “I’m sorry I got so mad.” I looked up at Tommy. “I just can’t believe it. I just can’t.”

“It’s like a bad dream,” he said.

“Yeah. That sight, Tommy, of the shuttle. It was so horrible. It is so horrible to think Christa, the others—”

“Annie.” He moved his chair close to mine and pulled me to him. I put my head on his shoulder, and he put his head on mine. It was comforting, but it also felt wrong.

I pulled away and sat up, wiping my eyes. “Thank you.” I looked down at his hands. “Are your hands cold?” I grabbed his in my gloved ones. I rubbed them to try to get them warm.

“Are you better now?” he asked.

“Better.”