The Calculating Stars (Lady Astronaut, #1)(66)

Nathaniel drew a breath. “I’m the le—”

I dropped my purse on the floor to stop him. “Oh! I’m such a klutz.” Having him say that he was the lead engineer for the space program? While we were trapped on a ship with these folks? I was already too angry to continue the conversation, and it wasn’t going to go anywhere better from there. “Lynn, do you remember how I was always dropping things?”

She joined me in changing the subject, bless her, and from there on the conversation was perfectly ordinary. What did we talk about? I don’t even know. Everything? Nothing? It was just … normal. Until I ran into Lynn, I hadn’t realized how far outside of normal our life had become. They had a son. They were hoping for another. They had a mortgage, for God’s sake.

A mortgage. Nathaniel and I were too afraid of the future to even move out of our studio apartment, and the Bromenshenkels were planning twenty years into the future with a mortgage.

*

The next day, Nathaniel came with me to the studio. It was a relief to have him there. At a show about science, Dr. Nathaniel York of the IAC was quite the celebrity, so I was able to fade back and just be Mrs. York for a while.

Mind you, I think Nathaniel was turning up the charm in order to draw attention from me. It meant that I didn’t have to carry on small talk with anyone. More than once, I thought about the doctor he’d taken me to, and had some regret for not having that prescription filled. But I only threw up once, and I don’t think that anyone except Nathaniel knew.

And then it was time to go to places.

The assistant, whose name I still couldn’t remember, appeared at the makeup table. “Dr. York? We’re ready for you now.”

Nathaniel turned toward him and opened his mouth, then shut it again with a laugh. “You’re not talking to me.” He bent down to kiss my cheek and whispered, “Prime numbers are your friend.”

He knew me so well. I whispered back, “Later I’ll have to see if you’re divisible.”

A coughing laugh was my reward, and he blushed a little, which was always a bonus. “Only divisible by one.”

Straightening, he gave me a wink and stepped back.

It was marginally less terrifying to go with the assistant this time, though whether that’s because I knew what to expect or because I hadn’t had as much time to get worked up, I couldn’t tell you. I was mostly fine, just mild butterflies. I didn’t need to be drugged, thank you very much—

Until the assistant turned to Nathaniel and said, “I’ll be back to show you where you can watch, Dr. York.”

“No.” The word was out of my mouth before I knew why I didn’t want Nathaniel watching. It was why he’d come, after all. And he’d seen the other broadcast. It wasn’t as if I was about to do something shocking, or even difficult. “I—never mind. It’s fine.”

Nathaniel watched me for a moment. “You know … I think I’d rather watch from the control booth. See how they do this stuff.”

What will people think … He knew me so well, and it made no sense that I was afraid to make a mistake in front of him. Goodness knows he’d seen me be foolish plenty of times, like the “dandelion greens salad” disaster. And yet, I was nodding at him now. “That sounds like a fine idea.”

Then it was off through the hallways of the studio, onto the soundstage, and then on my mark at the fake door. Beyond the door, the assistant director said, “We’re live in five, four, three…”

Three was a prime number. So was five. I breathed through my mouth. Seven. Eleven. Thirteen.

The assistant held his clipboard and nodded to the stage. That was my cue. I put my hand on the knob and walked through, smiling.

Don looked up with a grin. “Dr. York! Boy, am I glad you’re here. Rita and I were just trying to figure out what fuel to use for our bottle rocket.”

Beside him, Rita had a bottle with fins on the side like a toy rocket. This time she wore a blue dress, spangled with stars.

“As it happens, I can help with that.” I walked to the mark like an old hand, and found myself smiling at Rita. She smiled back. It might have been acting, but still … this was why I was here.

And now I wished Nathaniel were there to see me.

*

The miniature rocket we’d made from a bottle filled with baking soda and vinegar lifted off the makeshift launchpad in a spray of foaming gas. It arced above the height of the set. Off camera, a pair of stagehands with a blanket caught the rocket as it dropped back down.

Rita clapped her hands with delight. “Golly, that’s keen, Dr. York!” She turned to Don. “Say, Mr. Wizard, what would happen if we used a bigger rocket?”

He laughed and put a hand on his hip. “You remember those calculations that Dr. York showed you?”

“Oh, sure.” She beamed at me. “So all I’d have to do is figure out how much the new rocket weighed … I could do that!”

Mr. Wizard handed her the sheet of paper we’d been using earlier. “All right, then. I’ll see you next week.”

From behind the cameras, the director said, “And we’re out. Good work, people.”

I sagged against the counter and sighed as a sort of brightness drained out of me. TV was nothing like doing calculations—not really—since these problems were all things that we’d discussed beforehand. But the precision with which the entire studio worked to pull off this live broadcast … it did remind me a little of the dark room on launch day, as dozens of competent people focused on one goal.