Astronaut.
You know how sometimes you say a word so often it loses its meaning? That doesn’t happen. The definition sticks in my brain—and it’s even in the etymology. Astro-naut. Space explorer. What every three-year-old kid has not so secretly wanted to be since the sixties.
I slam my champagne glass down with a clink and push past my mother. The hallway blurs by as I barrel into our bathroom. I don’t know what this means for my dad, my mom, or me. But I do know one thing:
I’m going to be sick.
Shooting Stars
Season 1; Episode 6
EXCLUSIVE INTERVIEW: On this episode of Shooting Stars, astronaut Grace Tucker sits down with host Josh Farrow and gets straight to the question we get most from our loyal StarWatch fans. (First aired 6/15/2019)
“Good evening, StarWatchers, I’m Josh Farrow. Tonight we welcome Grace Tucker: a fierce pilot, a brilliant engineer, and above all else, a determined astronaut. Who knows what role she’ll play in the Orpheus project? Will she assist from the ground, or could she possibly leave the first human footprint on the surface of Mars? It’s only her third month on the project, after all, but she’s made quite a name for herself. We have Grace in the studio tonight to discuss all this and more … Grace, thank you for joining us tonight. There are nine of you now, and NASA recently announced they will add up to eleven more to the Orpheus project over the next year.”
“Thanks for having me, Josh. You and I know NASA wants the best astronauts. There was a time when NASA’s astronauts were only the toughest, roughest white men. Think back to the Mercury Seven and the New Nine—men like Deke Slayton, Alan Shepard, Jim Lovell, Pete Conrad. They were all smart as hell, sure, but in time NASA realized the benefit of diversity. Diversity in skill set; in place of life; in race, gender, identity, and orientation.”
“Yes, of course. But we—Shooting Stars viewers—also know NASA has not always been at the forefront of these issues. Like how Mae Carol Jemison, the first black woman in space, went up on Endeavour in the early nineties. That was, what, thirty-some years after the space program was founded?”
“Which, if I may interrupt, is why diversity in the space program has always been one of my top priorities, and I’ve made that clear from my first days at NASA. So I fully stand behind NASA’s decision here, and I look forward to meeting and flying with the new recruits.”
“Let me put this another way: Do you think your chances of leading this flight are dropping, given how many new recruits NASA’s bringing on board?”
“I’m not worried, Josh. Nothing’s a given in this environment—you must know that. I could be taken off the mission for getting the flu a day before launch. The government could pull funding; your fans could lose their interest. I just do my best every day. It’s all any of us can do.”
CHAPTER 3
Maybe it’s the panic, but Grace’s first StarWatch interview plays in my mind. Over and over and over. It’s the only thing I can think of. Grace’s upright posture, her camera-ready attitude. Her subtle concern.
I flush the toilet and stand to stare at my reflection. My face glistens with sweat, and my panted breaths fog the mirror. I wipe it away and start to brush my teeth, holding my own gaze like it’s the only thing keeping me here, keeping me grounded.
My mind fills with more news stories. Local, national, gossip, blogs. The barely covered press release announcing the relocation of all astronaut families to Houston, the rumors of a shuttered mission—why spend money on space exploration when we could better fund schools or infrastructure?
And I remember the moment it all changed.
StarWatch Network announced its partnership with NASA, complete with a teaser episode of Shooting Stars featuring a pilot in a simulation cockpit. Sweat dripped down astronaut Mark Bannon’s brow as the narrator explained the test.
During the simulation, as the craft entered Mars’s atmosphere, the screen goes blank. As the surface of Mars comes into view, fast, Mark resets the gauges. When this fails, he reaches for a pen and paper beneath his seat. The scene cuts to Mark entering coordinates and new trajectories into the still-glowing command module. As the craft nears the ground, all panels come back to life, giving Mark just enough time to make final adjustments before … thud.
“Orpheus V has landed,” he says between breaths.
Then the screen cuts to a message to tune in weekly to watch StarWatch’s new show: Shooting Stars.
The uptick in attention the families got from adoring fans was instant. To some, they became American heroes; to some, they became the newest reality show. They’re interesting. They’re perfect. They’re …
Not like us.
“Calvin, honey?” My mom’s voice is hoarse.
My parents file in after I gain the strength to unlock the door. Mom’s got the look of a concerned mother down perfectly, all creased brows and soft eyes. But my dad’s got a different expression. His mouth slants, and he seems detached from it all. I can’t tell if he’s annoyed, or just not tolerating my reaction. Yeah, it was a little much, but I don’t exactly have control over when my falafel cart lunch decides to make a fast escape.
“Are you done?” he asks, and all my muscles tighten at once.
“I’m fine,” I say. “I—uh—ate too much.”
Dad chuckles and takes a generous sip of his drink. “Right. So it had nothing to do with—”
“You overcoming literal impossible odds to become an astronaut?” I force a laugh. “No, not at all. For the record, it’s also not about the fact that we have to uproot our lives in a few months. It’s definitely got nothing to do with how I won’t be able to stream my reports anymore. It’s just a lot to take in, okay?”
“Maybe they could let him keep doing the videos?” Mom says. “Why don’t you ask them when you go—”
“I can’t believe this is what we’re talking about right now,” Dad says, splashing the rest of his champagne into the bathroom sink. “Look, I’m sorry you won’t be able to play on social media anymore, but this is real life.”
I choke back a laugh. “Real life? I have to give up my journalism, plus my entire life, because a reality show says so. You really think what I do is less ‘real’ than StarWatch?”
My mom’s caught between us in our tiny bathroom. She’s wringing her hands and looking back and forth. Not daring to say anything else. When she and Dad fight, she always knows what to say, never backs down. But now, her face is frozen between panic and helplessness. I know this isn’t good for her anxiety, so I take a deep breath to calm myself.
I squeeze by her and into the hall and break into a quick walk to my room.
“Cal,” Dad says, and I stop. It’s short, but not sweet. His voice has an edge of pity to it. “I’ll … I can ask them.”
“No, it’s fine,” I say. “It’s great, actually. Why would I need to do the one thing I’m good at and actually enjoy, when I could be out there enjoying the Lone Star State? I’ve always loved the allure of Texas. Tripping over Republicans every other step, somehow keeping vegetarian in the land of Tex-Mex and barbecue ribs, it’s a literal dream come true.”