The Calculating Stars (Lady Astronaut, #1)(75)

My mouth tasted of brine and juniper as I swallowed. “Well, we did all of our preparations before arriving, and there hasn’t been a call for new calculations yet.”

“I’m talking about having you testify.”

I nearly dropped my martini. “Testify? Me? Why in the world would they want to hear from me?”

She tilted her head, and I wasn’t sure how I thought that the scarf made her soft. “Elma. Senator Mason is going to try to use the accident to stop the program.”

“Yes, well, he’s always hated it.” He kept trying to funnel the money to his own state for disaster recovery. To be fair, North Carolina needed it. They got hit with a lot of the fires, and then the acid rain afterward killed most of the farming land. “What does that have to do with me?”

“Because you’re the Lady Astronaut.”

“I am not an astronaut!” My voice cut through the low hum of conversation around us. Wealthy and powerful people turned to stare. What must they think? Bending my head, I applied myself to the martini and let the cold burn of the gin distract me.

“And the Lady Astronaut clubs?”

The deviled eggs arrived. There was not a chance that I could eat even one of the glistening ovoids. Your body is not supposed to react this way … Swallowing, I pushed the martini away from me. “That was NBC’s idea. I had nothing to do with it.”

“Bullshit.”

“It’s true. And Don—Mr. Wizard—objected to the name, because boys and girls should be able to be astronauts, or in his Mr. Wizard Science clubs.”

She shook her head and leaned across the table. “That’s not what I mean. You may not have organized the clubs, but the fact that they exist is directly because of you. And Nathaniel isn’t taking advantage of your popularity?”

“I’m not—”

“You’re photogenic. You make rocketry sound exciting and easy. You’re funny and—”

“I throw up.” Clapping my hands over my mouth, I closed my eyes and concentrated on breathing. Nicole was trying to help. If I were someone else, her suggestion might work, but not with me. “I can’t.”

“When?” Her voice was softer.

Lowering my hands, I opened my eyes. “Before every filming. Sometimes after, too.”

“But not during?”

“I can’t.”

Nicole bit her lower lip, then sighed and slid her chair a little closer. “I … you have to promise me you won’t say anything. Lord help me, if the paper gets wind of this—promise me, Elma.”

I shook my head, trying to figure out where this was going, and then realized it looked like I was saying no. “Sorry. Yes. Of course I promise. Though you’re alarming me a little.”

Lowering her voice until it was barely audible over the clink of cutlery, she leaned closer still. “After the Meteor … I had some trouble. Similar trouble. And then when Kenneth was running for office it became … it became a problem. I became a problem.” She looked around as if we were in a spy novel. “I can introduce you to my doctor.”

“I don’t want to take drugs.”

She pulled back, her face frozen in a social smile. “I didn’t say anything about medication, of course. The wife of a senator? What would people think?”

That fear, I understood all too well. I held up my hands to try to soothe her. “It’s not—I wouldn’t. It’s just … I talked to a doctor and he recommended them, but…”

“I know.” She picked up her martini and stared into it, mouth twisted in an odd smirk. “Believe me, I understand all about the ‘but.’ And I was wrong.”

*

It took another week of hearings before I realized that Nicole was right on two fronts. First, that although Nathaniel resolutely was not asking me to testify, he needed me to. Or, rather, he needed a computer to testify, and of the ones who worked for IAC, I made the most sense, because I’d been helping him prepare; and … and because of my existing visibility.

And, second, that testifying would make me ill. No, wait … that’s not the part she was right about. I already knew that about myself. What Nicole was right about was that I shouldn’t have to get sick every time I addressed a group of people.

It’s funny how, once something comes into your consciousness, you begin seeing it everywhere, like seeing your birthdate in random places. After talking with Nicole, I began seeing ads for Miltown constantly. At the pharmacy there was a sign that read “Ice Cream!” and then under it, just as large, “Yes! We Have Miltown!” Or, at the grocery store, leafing through a magazine, there were ads for the “happy pill.” Heck, Milton Berle was even joking about renaming himself “Miltown Berle.” I know that we’re pattern-seeking creatures, but at a certain point the prevalence of anxiety began to seem like a Fibonacci sequence of emotion.

So, I called Nicole’s doctor. Who also specialized in psychotherapy. This new doctor turned out to be a woman, which was a surprise and a relief. I didn’t tell Nathaniel where I was going. He would have understood, and gone with me. I just … I just didn’t want to admit that I was this weak. I was so ashamed of needing a drug to do something as innocuous as talk. I was smart. Heck. When I wasn’t being modest, I was brilliant. I knew that. But the doctor and Nicole were both right, and if this had been any other condition, I would not have balked at medication.