Splashdown Ch. 01

Life has gotten in the way a few times lately. All family members are now healthy and back on their feet. I had no idea that stints could be inserted in the drive through lane now. Wonders never cease.

This is not a short story. On the plus side it is written and complete. I will post all eleven chapters over the next few days, unless life throws another tantrum -- which is its prerogative. I hope it entertains.

Please note the basis for this story was put together a couple years ago, prior to Artemis One and the recent Space X triumphs. The story won't make much sense if that isn't known up front.

Splashdown

Live From the Cape

Let's get the introductions out of the way. My wife Peggy was an astronaut. Pretty neat, huh? I have never shied away from a challenge, where some men were highly intimidated having an astronaut for a partner, I was highly intrigued. Though I don't intimidate easily, I'm not a macho tough guy either. I'm fit enough, beyond the norm. I am mentally tough. I sort of expect bad news and just deal with it. Peggy supercharged my superpower because she is my happiness and my stability: two very valuable assets I had far too little of before meeting her. There was never a problem with Peggy, you could set your watch by her, and she always loved me as long as the day is wide.

My name is Gary. I can't tell you what I do for a living except to say I plan. Let's call it logistics; I specialize in emergency planning, and I do it for the government. I am not normally a hands-on guy; I am certainly no operator. On occasion I do have to go in the field and I can handle myself, I don't think I should push the definition any farther than that. But don't go the other direction either, by "in the field" I don't mean weekend camping. The labels for the places I go all start with the word "hostile". So, don't confuse me for those guys on either end of the spectrum: a wanna-be or an operator. I'm somewhere in the middle with an engineering degree and critical thinking skills as my sword and buckler. If I didn't do what I do, I would probably be in logistics for a worldwide shipper or an insurance fraud investigator. I like complex problems: something I can sink my teeth and talents into.

For all of that it is my wife who gets all the attention. Peggy is a little taller than the norm at 5' 5", she says 5' 4" but I give her extra credit. She has a slim waist which makes her hips and breasts look even bigger, than they are, in a very good way. She is delightfully round in those areas, though she would never be chosen for a centerfold. We are both the "attractive folks next door" types. We get a lot of attention at pool parties because we are nicer to look at with fewer clothes on. We aren't drool worthy, though others argue the point. Some swear I am quite attractive, I think I am a better objective judge. I hear that I get better looking the more you look at me. I beleive that is a product of the on looker's increasing inebriation. Rather, I believe our attractiveness comes as a pleasant surprise to the onlookers. We don't get many second glances in the mall in winter, you only see what we have when clothes come off in the summer.

All of that is to say that while we get our compliments and the occasional naughty offer, and the opposite sex is not repulsed by us, they are not normally beating a path to our door. So why does my wife get all the attention? Guys are still more overt in their watching of women, though in my opinion the ladies are catching up fast. Nope, it's because she is an astronaut. Remember?

Attention-wise things "took off" for Peggy when she landed on the short list to be stationed on the ISS, the International Space Station. She garnered all sorts of magazine and news interviews. Those outlets like women making it big in what were traditionally male areas. Which is pretty much the inverse of men wanting to date her, most being intimidated by a woman who can "out man" them. Peg is very feminine, but one more time, Peg is an astronaut and most male suiters are plumbers, accountants, builders, or businessmen. Which occupation would you want to make an action movie about? Precisely: if the guy can't win on that question he often shies away from the lady.

Here is an interesting tidbit. Peg's famous and I hug the shadows. Women don't walk up to me and give me their number, but I have ... something. Before I met Peggy, more times than not, if I walked up to a woman and started a conversation, I walked away taking them or their phone number with me. My wife had had it with guy's interest in her lasting only until careers came up. When they found out that as cute, hot, and demure as she appeared Peg probably had bigger balls then they did, they would scram. Most guys don't want the ribbing from their buddies even if their own egos can handle it.

I'm not intimidating, most of the time. Other guys don't rib me either, they just know I'm not the kind of guy you do that to. My ego craves a woman of distinction. Intelligence especially is an aphrodisiac to me. Some guys don't like that either, because a lot of guys are stupid. After I found what the other guys missed, I wooed and won my dream girl. Peggy was resolutely mine; the guys that hit on her later as she became famous never had a chance.

Peggy was my best friend and best buddy. We loved doing everything together and talked with each other constantly. We got each other. She wanted to go into space, she had ever since she was a little girl. Her parents proudly told the tale of her planning her career before she was ten and pursuing it ever since; and making it happen! I wholeheartedly supported her. Even to the point of pushing back our plans to make a family when she made the roster of candidates to travel, with experiments of her own creation, to the International Space Station for implementation. Frankly, I was as excited as Peggy about the possibility of her actually fulfilling her astronaut dream.

Peggy had become a local hero here on the space coast. I loved her getting her due. She stayed in the limelight as she made cut after cut in the selection process. Her experiment was needed as a stepping-stone to an eventual Mars shot. The flight list was pared from three astronauts to two, both women, and then one. My Peggy was going where I had tried to put her so many times in our bed - into orbit.

Peggy was chosen in 2010 the same year the Space X Dragon capsule had its maiden flight. The shuttle bowed out the next year, which shuffled the roster; Peggy actually moved up in rotation. It looked like she would fly in 2012. She would take a rocket up, sync with the station, dock, live there for a while and then return to earth landing in a Soyuz capsule somewhere in a territory that was formerly one of mother Russia's children, now a kissing cousin.

Once Peggy was chosen the problems came. Her experiment needed to be set up, calibrated, and then the data collected. Any adjustments that had to be made would then require an adjustment in the data, and that may require a further adjustment in the mechanism. Her device could be attached to the space station itself requiring at least one spacewalk, which Peg was ecstatic about. This is a long way of saying that if her experiment went to the space station, she had to go along with it. And who knows, maybe she might be able to go on the spacewalk with the astronauts who were going to attach her experiment to the outside of the space station.

For several reasons, including keeping her there for any needed adjustments as well as funding cuts, the very reason she had to go into space would keep her there for a while. What she had always envisioned, and had sold me on, was a trip of a week or two. That was the case with a fleet of Space Shuttles.

With the shuttles decommissioned, the getting there and getting back fell to pods, which came back less frequently. Peg never addressed the looming elephant in the room. Surprised by this and after several failed attempts to gauge what the plan had morphed into, I finally asked about the amount of time she would be up there.

I saw something completely new when Peg actually trembled at having to answer me. She kept trying to talk her way around the subject, hoping to come in for a soft landing that could never be. All she was doing was frustrating me, and she could tell. She knew I was the nicest guy in the world until I felt someone was playing me.

Peg was surprised when her dickering for a better reception was finally met head on with the realization that she was making the situation worse than it should have been. She also saw my dismay. We talked about everything. I was excited about her trip into space. Why had she withheld information from me, especially when she knew I would have celebrated the news with her? The longer our lack of honest conversation went on, the more I was forced to confront that my perfectly open best friend who shared everything with her husband had purposely held out on me. I had never considered the possibility. I was shocked and was growing pissed the more her dance of obfuscation continued.

My wife's realization came in the following form: "Goddam it Peggy, are you trying to get out of telling me because I will hate your answer, or because you know on top of my disliking the answer, that you will love being up there longer."

She was just stunned. I had knocked her right out of her presentation.

"What are we talking about Peg? Did they add a week? Will you be up there three weeks?"

Without meaning to, I really did have her reeling now, she was on the ropes in fact. That was eye opening. Astronauts aren't knocked reeling very often or they never would have made astronaut status in the first place. What had I stumbled onto?

Peg looked away then forced herself to look me in the face, "No Gary. They have shifted all the crew trips to correspond to the supply schedule. There just aren't as many Soyuz capsules or rockets engines available and they have rationed them. I will be up there three months."

I just sat there. It seemed worse to Peggy that I didn't yell or ask questions or throw some sort of a fit. My vision seemed to burn her as she shrunk from my eyes. Apparently, I had given her the impression of a person ambushed by the enemy. The surprise being all the more shocking coming at the tacit agreement of a trusted loved one.

Peggy wasn't saying anything now. She wasn't saying when they told her, or for how long she had thought this was a possibility. She wasn't saying anything that indicated she was outraged, or thought this was terrible, or that she was not in fact in tacit agreement with their desire to keep her away from me that long. She wasn't saying anything about my statement that she knew I hated it while she loved the idea of more time in space even if it meant more time away from me. I guess I would be kept in the dark about that just as I was about the possibility of this extended flight. No admissions, no explicit apology for tacit actions and happiness at a situation that caused me the opposite.

I waited. No answers came, Peg just felt my eyes burn her with growing intensity. Nothing was fore coming about how well she had thought this out. I had reason to believe not very well.

"Do you want to tell me how long you have kept this possibility secret?"

She seemed to magnify her study of the floor which she had begun moments prior. There must have been something very interesting on our floor.

"How about how long the meetings were where you brain stormed about how to avoid this level of separation from your spouse?"

Nothing. And now my ire was rising.

"At least how about how you told them off or explained how this would be unfair to me because no one had ever raised this possibility to me before."

Her silence was deafening.

"Alright Peggy, how about you tell me how many minutes you thanked them profusely for extending your mission? How long have you known this was the case, and why did you decide to tell your stupid clueless husband the truth now? Or did you spend much time at all considering that, or me?"

She looked up positively shocked, but it burned away as quickly as she saw me. I was seething.

"Whether you didn't care, or just didn't bother to raise a single objection out of consideration for dear old hubby, you have never actually worked against my best interests. Peg, I don't know what's more shocking: how much energy you put into going for a longer time, or how little energy you put into trying to find something more palatable for your family, or at least more considerate of me, like simply informing me of the possibility. You know I have supported your space shot every step of the way!"

Now my wife sitting there like a kid stuck in the principal's office was ticking me off, in addition to her callous treatment of me. We did everything together: we planned trips, did the wash, cooked and cleaned. We loved being together. Peg was my best friend! How could she not have forewarned me, and after she knew how could she not have told me? Especially with my asking about this every damn day?

"Considering how supportive I have been, and believe it or not still am, about your space flight, I find the new change in our relationship particularly jarring. You could have respected me enough to have at least told me of the possibility, and at least acted a little sad at being away from me. Instead you have put off a straight answer on the subject for at least a week now.

"You have a great consolation prize for the preemption of our union: the grand adventure. I'm only going to have three months alone considering why you chose to keep me in the dark and didn't even attempt to defend us even once verbally. I bet you didn't even try to break your ear to ear grin."

"Gary I ..."

"Save it Peg, you've had quite a while to speak to me and chose not to. So why do I want to hear it now?"

I turned dismissing her in what I hoped would send a message about her dismissing me for however long she had kept this from me. Walking away I stated firmly over my shoulder, "When you are ready to tell me you are planning to take three months away from me, you at least owe telling me everything; every decision and conversation leading up to this. I expect names and dates."

I stopped. This was the worst argument we'd ever had, and yet ... I stopped and turned. Peg went a ghostly shade of pale. She had gotten my message about dismissiveness loud and clear. Now however, she had no idea what my turning around meant.

Pissed though trying to define the problem and defuse the situation I spoke much more softly, "Peg, I love that you want to do something few have done, that you set your mind to it and apparently have achieved it. That fills me with a husband's pride that I guess maybe you don't understand. I am still proud and happy you were chosen for this mission and I want you to go and serve with distinction. That is exactly why I never should have been blindsided about anything this important, and never ever blindsided by you!

"If you honor me and our marriage you will never make another decision this important about our lives where I am cut out. I've never done the like to you Peg. I am thrilled for you that you get to spend more time up there. I know you will love that. At the same time, I would have been disappointed that the trip was extended this long because I hate being without you. But that would have been all if we had faced it together. Now I need to digest what keeping me in the dark means, Peg. You were planning three months away and never told me! You kept it from me instead, I never would have believed you capable of that. I must come to grips that you did this to me. Especially as it was so unnecessary: I never would have suggested you miss your flight. You didn't have to do it this way, Peg!"

I was shocked, hurt, and incredulous. I let her see it all. Peg just sat there shrinking. That pissed me off too. I would have thought she would have been very proactive in fixing the sudden rift between us. Her continuing to do nothing magnified the problem. I didn't like that, but she had made her bed.

Now I had to deal with being without my wife, best friend, and bed gymnastics partner for three months. That was not good as we were "frequent fliers". We both needed a like-minded partner for our over-active libidos. She had to have known all this for some time, possibly weeks, and kept it to herself? What exactly did all this mean and what could I do about it?

Moving Back the Gantry

We got over the blindside. Peggy said she was worried to tell me about the length of her stay. She admitted she should have told me. She further stated she understood that the more a subject strayed into an area our spouse might not like, the more it had to discussed quickly. She said she was worried I might withdraw my support of her going on the flight at hearing the change. She knew I was not only her best friend and confidant, but as an astronaut her biggest fan. She could not bear to lose the support of all those important voices.

Peg understood my greatest worry was that she had not told me even when I had repeatedly brought up the subject. She knew she had blown it. I was convinced that it would not recur. To her credit Peg knew I never would have thought it would have occurred the first time. She understood that was a wound that would stay there until treated, and that there was really no time to treat it now. It would have to wait until after the flight, which she feared would compound the problem. Then again, she could see very clearly that I was still her best friend, confidant, and biggest fan of her astronaut career. She started spontaneously thanking me for my continued love and support, especially considering how she had mishandled the massive change in her mission length and its impact on our lives. However, until the wound could be completely healed, we were still more than good.

Being proud of Peg's career and her success I had largely bitten my tongue upon hearing the length of Peg's planned stay in orbit. It wasn't just the separation, which was a huge factor, but the station had minimal shielding against cosmic rays and their orbit was above the earth's protective atmosphere. While I didn't expect Fantastic Four mutations, I was worried that we had not had kids yet.

What government was going to pay for proper testing? And if they spotted something strange what, exactly, would they do about it? Governments weren't typically great about taking responsibility. And I wasn't interested in assigning it, I wanted to preempt anything bad enough to assign. This was brand new reality; there was no road map for me to follow. In all likelihood we would be on our own with any children that had birth defects. I wanted to know the odds of our future children having trouble that could stem from my wife's time in space.

Compounding the problem was that I had never had an issue I could not talk to Peggy about. She, like hundreds of other women, had worked their entire adult lives for their shot at space, few made it. Now that she had her shot, I was not going to rain on her parade. Though I didn't like losing my wife's company for three months: I was just going to have to suck it up on that one. However, facing the idea that perhaps we could not have the family we hoped for was a cost I had not accounted for. Not being able to find answers also made the problem worse. The other problem: I was not used to worrying. And now I was, and I didn't want Peg to know.

I didn't want to burden Peggy with worry while she was up there. I didn't want her to think I was less than supportive. Hell, I didn't want to be less than supportive. Wasn't it enough to worry about my wife strapped onto a rocket made of recycled ICBM engines? The same engines that weren't good enough to kill each other with anymore. The idea of poor Peggy finally getting a minute or two to breathe up there and her first thought being that she had traded her future family for this experience broke my heart. I was trying to hide my ill ease, I had never kept anything big from her, except by explicit government fiat. She didn't know my exact occupation, that was the norm for said (or unsaid) occupation. This seemed very different.