of thought, and that was what she decided.
Grant looked at Conn, and Conn imagined she could hear his heart thumping. He was about to say something it took a lot of courage for him to say. Conn wished he wouldn’t.
“I want—I’d like you to come with me,” he said.
Conn had prepared for this, including what she would say to let him down easy. She wouldn’t tell him the truth—that she was terrified of what Grant would think of her if he knew she was bipolar; that she couldn’t drop everything she knew and scotch all the plans she’d made to go be with someone who might fall out of love with her; he would try and argue with her if she told him the truth.
So she had a plan. It went by the wayside when she started talking. In the moment, she found herself resenting Grant for putting her in the position of having to let him down, easy or otherwise.
“Just like that,” she said. “Postpone my degree. Maybe keep working for Peo, maybe not.”
Grant’s brow furrowed. “Well, you’d be in Brownsville, and I’m sure you could work out of the offices there.”
“Unless Peo has gotten used to having someone at her right hand. And that’s where I am, Grant—at Peo Haskell’s right hand. Peo Haskell! But you think I should give that up.”
“We can talk to Peo together,” Grant said. “I—” He didn’t know how to finish.
She so wanted to tell him the truth. But she couldn’t stop what she had started. It had too much momentum.
“Look, I get it,” Conn said. “You’re going to be leaving. For a long time.”
“Not for almost two years, Conn.”
“And you’re worried I won’t wait for you.”
“That’s not it at all.”
“I think I’m staying here. And I think,” Conn said, and she thought she could hear the blood rushing to her face, “this relationship isn’t going to work long distance.” It was as though she was listening to herself talk, without any input into what she was saying. “I think you ought to go back to Texas and build your spaceship, and I’ll stay here. That’s what I think.”
Grant looked stricken, and Conn realized her staying would be awkward. So she got up and left.
# # #
Conn graduated with barely acceptable senior year grades, other than her A in Professor Haskell’s Heat and Mass Transfer class and her required Interprofessional Project, which was, in her case, credit for working at Dyna-Tech. It didn’t matter—she had her degree in aerospace engineering, and already the best job someone her age and in her field could hope for, as far as she was concerned.
Other than Grant’s. She would rather have had Grant’s job, all things being equal, but she tried not to dwell on that.
Peo fully supported her in her breakup with Grant, which surprised Conn a little—she half expected Peo to be mad that she had emotionally harmed her star astronaut.
“With everything else he has going for him, it’s not fair if he has you, too,” Peo told her. It made Conn smile, a rarity right around then. The women were spending some time with Frappuccinos in a sleepy Starbucks.
“I felt like I couldn’t be jealous of Grant,” Conn confided. She wasn’t sure why she was talking about it with Peo, but it felt good to talk to somebody. “Like I was obligated to be happy for him, and that was it.”
“Now?”
“Now I’m almost beside myself. If I’d gone to NASA, I would so ace their training. I’m in amazing shape, I know my science, I’m twenty times more confident than I was before you hired me. I’d be young, smart, spaceworthy, borderline attractive—”
Peo tsk’ed.
“I could have everything he has. But my brain is broken, so I can’t. I try not to let it upset me, but now that Grant and I are broken up—”
“You’re more free to feel sorry for yourself.”
Conn blinked. “I might not put it that way, exactly...”
“No criticism intended,” Peo said. “I know from not being able to go into space for health reasons. Only in my
Grant looked at Conn, and Conn imagined she could hear his heart thumping. He was about to say something it took a lot of courage for him to say. Conn wished he wouldn’t.
“I want—I’d like you to come with me,” he said.
Conn had prepared for this, including what she would say to let him down easy. She wouldn’t tell him the truth—that she was terrified of what Grant would think of her if he knew she was bipolar; that she couldn’t drop everything she knew and scotch all the plans she’d made to go be with someone who might fall out of love with her; he would try and argue with her if she told him the truth.
So she had a plan. It went by the wayside when she started talking. In the moment, she found herself resenting Grant for putting her in the position of having to let him down, easy or otherwise.
“Just like that,” she said. “Postpone my degree. Maybe keep working for Peo, maybe not.”
Grant’s brow furrowed. “Well, you’d be in Brownsville, and I’m sure you could work out of the offices there.”
“Unless Peo has gotten used to having someone at her right hand. And that’s where I am, Grant—at Peo Haskell’s right hand. Peo Haskell! But you think I should give that up.”
“We can talk to Peo together,” Grant said. “I—” He didn’t know how to finish.
She so wanted to tell him the truth. But she couldn’t stop what she had started. It had too much momentum.
“Look, I get it,” Conn said. “You’re going to be leaving. For a long time.”
“Not for almost two years, Conn.”
“And you’re worried I won’t wait for you.”
“That’s not it at all.”
“I think I’m staying here. And I think,” Conn said, and she thought she could hear the blood rushing to her face, “this relationship isn’t going to work long distance.” It was as though she was listening to herself talk, without any input into what she was saying. “I think you ought to go back to Texas and build your spaceship, and I’ll stay here. That’s what I think.”
Grant looked stricken, and Conn realized her staying would be awkward. So she got up and left.
# # #
Conn graduated with barely acceptable senior year grades, other than her A in Professor Haskell’s Heat and Mass Transfer class and her required Interprofessional Project, which was, in her case, credit for working at Dyna-Tech. It didn’t matter—she had her degree in aerospace engineering, and already the best job someone her age and in her field could hope for, as far as she was concerned.
Other than Grant’s. She would rather have had Grant’s job, all things being equal, but she tried not to dwell on that.
Peo fully supported her in her breakup with Grant, which surprised Conn a little—she half expected Peo to be mad that she had emotionally harmed her star astronaut.
“With everything else he has going for him, it’s not fair if he has you, too,” Peo told her. It made Conn smile, a rarity right around then. The women were spending some time with Frappuccinos in a sleepy Starbucks.
“I felt like I couldn’t be jealous of Grant,” Conn confided. She wasn’t sure why she was talking about it with Peo, but it felt good to talk to somebody. “Like I was obligated to be happy for him, and that was it.”
“Now?”
“Now I’m almost beside myself. If I’d gone to NASA, I would so ace their training. I’m in amazing shape, I know my science, I’m twenty times more confident than I was before you hired me. I’d be young, smart, spaceworthy, borderline attractive—”
Peo tsk’ed.
“I could have everything he has. But my brain is broken, so I can’t. I try not to let it upset me, but now that Grant and I are broken up—”
“You’re more free to feel sorry for yourself.”
Conn blinked. “I might not put it that way, exactly...”
“No criticism intended,” Peo said. “I know from not being able to go into space for health reasons. Only in my
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