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Murphy pushed the buzzer for the tenth time, listening to the muffled sound of the doorbell as it rang through the locked apartment. Skip had to be home. Murphy had been everywhere else his cousin was known to frequent and no one had seen him for days. The astronauts who lived and trained here were a close-knit group. If Skip had left town, they would've known about it. Besides, Murphy had a deep-down gut feeling that something was wrong, born out of working as a private investigator for the last four years as well as a lifetime's knowledge of his cousin's habits and quirks.
There was still no answer. Murphy sighed and wondered again what might've happened. All he knew for sure was that Aunt Beth had called him last week, worried sick. She couldn't get in touch with Skip. He didn't answer his phone. She'd tried to get him at the Space Center but they only gave her vague answers about him not being in for the day. She'd left messages but he hadn't returned any of her calls. She'd finally contacted Murphy and asked if there was any way, with his contacts at Hayvenhurst, he could find out what was going on with her oldest son.
At first he thought she was being overly concerned. Skip was with NASA and had been gone before for extended periods of time on training missions. But after a few days of getting nothing but stalls and excuses from Skip's higher ups, and still no word from his cousin, Murphy began to worry himself. He pawned his most pressing cases off on Laura, weaseled a few days off and hopped on a plane to Houston.
Being here in person hadn't turned up much more than Murphy had known before. He'd battled futilely with the bureaucracy at NASA, trying to get some information... any information. Then he beat the pavement in the surrounding neighborhoods. All with no luck. He even tried locating Skip's last girlfriend, Melanie Slozar. He knew she and Skip had broken things off recently but he thought maybe she might be able to tell him something. But that was a useless effort as well. Melanie was gone. According to her landlord, she'd packed up and left a month ago. In the end, he wound up back at Skip's apartment, somehow knowing all along his search would end here.
He banged on the door once more then made up his mind. If Skip was here, he obviously wasn't answering. Murphy glanced around to make sure he wasn't being observed, then pulled the small lock pick from its case and bent down to the knob. Within a few moments, he had the door open and he slipped inside.
"Skip?" Murphy called tentatively. "Skip, are you here?"
The apartment was quiet. The blinds were drawn and only a few shafts of the afternoon sunlight filtered in. But even in this drab lighting, Murphy could see the room was a mess. He reached over and flicked the switch on the wall, turning on the corner lamp. It only made things look worse.
There were clothes strewn about the furniture and floor. The coffee table was littered with beer bottles and the remains of several meals. Murphy frowned. This wasn't like Skip; he wasn't a slob. He glanced around the room and his frown deepened into a scowl. The paintings and posters that usually hung on the walls lay all over the floor, as if torn down and thrown there. Murphy walked over for a further inspection and found several of them crumpled into balls. Some were even torn into bits. Their frames were broken and bent, the hangers still on the wall.
One large one caught his eye and Murphy picked it up, carefully straightening it out. The Apollo 11 astronauts stared up at him, the moon behind them. In one corner was a scrawled autograph from Neil Armstrong. Murphy read it silently.
To Skip, I know you'll make it, Neil.
Murphy stared at it in puzzlement. This was Skip's pride and joy. He'd gotten it while still a Navy Flier, before he'd even been accepted into the astronaut training program. In fact, all the ruined pictures were space shots Skip had collected over the years since he was a boy. Who would want to come in here and destroy all this memorabilia? There'd been no sign of any forced entry. Murphy glanced back over at the coffee table, with its careless debris and felt a stab of fear for his cousin.
"Skip?" he called anxiously. He got up and headed towards the bedroom, noting distractedly the empty beer cans he had to kick out of his way. Casting all caution aside, he threw open the bedroom door, afraid of what he might find.
He stopped, his heart in his throat. This room was worse than the living room. Everything had been trashed. And then he saw Skip. For one harrowing moment, Murphy thought his cousin was dead. Skip lay sprawled across his bed, one arm and leg dangled lifelessly over the side. Panicked, Murphy raced to his side.
"Skip... Skip, answer me!"
He reached down to feel for a pulse, then recoiled as he caught the unmistakable odor of alcohol. His eyes took in at once the litter of bottles, his cousin's rumpled clothing, his scraggly growth of beard and he knew. Skip wasn't dead... he was dead drunk.
Murphy sank to the floor in relief and sat there for a few moments to let his heartbeat return to normal. But he soon realized the mystery wasn't solved by any means. Skip wasn't a heavy drinker. In fact, he rarely drank at all. His rigid astronaut training required the best physical stamina. Skip drank the least of any of his cousins. Andy enjoyed a beer now and then. Lee was into fine wines. Murphy himself indulged once and a while, but he couldn't remember the last time he'd seen Skip take a drink. For his cousin to be lying here, passed out cold... something had to be terribly wrong.
Murphy studied Skip's face. Even in sleep, he looked haggard, but that could be from all the alcohol. His light brown hair, usually neatly groomed to NASA standards, was badly in need of a cut and was hanging in his face. Murphy wondered again what could've happened in his cousin's life to cause this kind of behavior. Impulsively, he reached over to shake Skip's shoulder.
"Skip," he called quietly. "Skip, can you hear me?"
There was no response. Skip was definitely out. Murphy sighed and leaned up against the bed. There was no telling how long Skip would sleep. Until he woke up, there wasn't much Murphy could do... except maybe clean up a little. He kicked at an empty can. Maybe a lot, he decided.
He started in the living room and worked his way to the kitchen. It took a good hour, but at last he had things looking half way decent. He'd taken out several bags of trash, done the dishes and had the windows open to air the place out. The posters he piled together in an out of the way corner. He wasn't going to be the one to throw them out. He would let Skip take care of them. The only place left now was the bedroom itself.
Murphy walked back in. Skip had moved in his sleep so that his head was now at the foot of the bed. Murphy chuckled to himself. That, at least, was normal and was a little reassuring. Gearing himself up for the work ahead, he plunged into the mess.
Besides all the cans, food and clothes, there were a lot of torn and wadded up papers. They must've come from the desk that lay overturned in the corner. Murphy gave each a cursory glance before tossing it into the big trash bag. He was anxious to find some sort of clue... something that would explain his cousin's present state. Most of it was meaningless until he came across something on official NASA letterhead. It looked important so he sat down to read it. The first part was regular office jargon but suddenly Murphy caught a phrase that stood out like a beacon.
...with great regret we accept your resignation...
Resignation? Murphy felt his jaw drop open. Skip had resigned from NASA? From the Space Program he loved with all his heart? He quickly scanned the rest of the letter but it offered nothing in the way of explanation. Murphy dropped the paper into his lap and glanced at his cousin. He knew Skip had butted heads with practically everybody here in Houston, but he never thought he would go this far.
"Good grief, Skip," he whispered, even though he knew his cousin couldn't hear him. "What've you gone and done?"
He would get no answer until Skip rejoined the human race. He slowly got to his feet and resumed his cleanup. The letter from NASA he placed on the night stand. He worked silently until he had the room fairly clean. There was some trash on the bed itself and Murphy began on that. He soon realized what he was picking up were pages from a book, each neatly torn from the bindings.
He glanced over the text. It was mostly scientific and made little sense to Murphy, especially out of context and out of order. He frowned and reached over Skip's prone body to pick up the battered book covers. As he read the title, his heart sank. The Trans-Linear Vector Principle by Addison Carmichael.
Skip's book. The one that had caused so much flak. He knew Skip had gone round and round to defend his theories but NASA had no interest in his "crazy ideas." Now it appeared Skip himself had lost the heart for fighting anymore.
Murphy sat down on the end of the bed. He felt like he was in over his head. What would he say to Skip when his cousin finally did wake up? He felt a sudden urge to walk out the door and just go home but he squelched that before it had time to be more than a fleeting thought. That wouldn't be fair. His cousin obviously needed help. But he wondered what, in all his twenty-six years of experience, would help him find the right words to say to someone who'd just had all his dreams come crashing down on him. Then it occurred to him that he didn't have to do this alone. Acting on impulse, he sprang to his feet and rushed out to the living room. Spying the telephone, he picked up the receiver and quickly dialed.
He never knew if Lee was in the country or not but he had a number where he could leave messages. If his cousin was around, he would get back in touch with him. He left word for Lee to call him here, then he dialed again. He certainly hoped Andy was home.
Skip thought he was going to die. He'd never felt so sick in his entire life, not even the time he and Andy sneaked up the mountain to their hideout and smoked one of Uncle Jake's cigars. He had no idea what day it was or how long he'd been out. He was fuzzy on how long he'd been drinking and even fuzzier on how much. The only thing he knew right now was that someone was using a sledge hammer on the inside of his skull and every time he moved, his stomach churned in rebellion of the treatment he'd given it.
With great effort, he managed to open his eyes. The room swam around until his vision cleared a bit. He blinked a few times to speed the process. It looked dim in here, like it might be night, but he couldn't be sure. He rolled over onto his back and instantly regretted it. Pain stabbed into his brain and he nearly lost what little there was in his stomach. He groaned loudly and threw his arm over his eyes. God, what had he ever done to deserve this?
"I think you'll live."
Skip wondered if he was hearing voices now. He moved his arm slightly and opened one eye a crack. He couldn't be sure but it looked like Andy sitting in a chair next to his bed. He closed his eye back tightly. Maybe he was having hallucinations. He felt someone move his arm aside and then something wet and cool came down on his forehead. It felt good. Curiosity overcame his discomfort and he managed to open up both eyes this time.
"Welcome back to the living."
It was Andy. He was sitting beside the bed, a bemused look on his face. Skip wasn't sure why he was here. He didn't remember any plans to get together. But then... he didn't remember much of anything at the moment. He started to sit up but never made it. The pounding in his head increased in tempo and his stomach lurched threateningly. He groaned again and fell back to the pillow. He felt Andy's hand on his shoulder.
"Don't worry, Cuz. I've been there myself a couple of times. It should only last a few hours."
"A few hours!" Skip groaned again, and licked his lips. His tongue felt thick in his mouth. "Couldn't you just shoot me now and get it over with?"
"No way. You don't get off that easy." Even to Skip's fogged senses, Andy sounded slightly reproachful.
Skip closed his eyes again. "Don't lecture me, okay?" he sighed wearily. Andy didn't reply and Skip finally looked over at him sheepishly. "Sorry," he muttered.
"No problem," Andy replied easily. "You're not responsible for anything you say in the next few hours."
Skip tried to chuckle but ended up grimacing. He wished the pounding in his head would go away. Andy replaced the cloth on Skip's head with a fresh one. The coolness helped a little. As the pain eased a bit, Skip looked over at his cousin once more and regarded him curiously.
"What are you doing here?" he asked.
"Taking care of you," Andy quipped.
"No, I mean it," Skip insisted grumpily, in no mood for playing around.
Andy shrugged. "Murphy found you and..."
"Murphy?" Skip asked incredulously.
"Yeah. I guess your mom called him. She couldn't reach you and got worried."
"Oh God," Skip groaned softly. "My mom... The whole world must be looking for me."
Andy smiled and shook his head. "Nope... not anymore. Anyway, Murph found you all... uh... well... like you were and he panicked. He called me and Lee and..."
"Lee?" Skip sat up quickly and almost passed out. The room spun crazily until he slowly lowered himself back to the bed. "Is Lee here too?" he asked after a moment.
Andy nodded. "He and Murph are sacked out in the other room." Andy's face grew serious. "We were all pretty worried about you."
Skip shook his head slightly, trying to move as little as possible. "You didn't need to be."
Andy's eyebrows shot up. "No? You don't talk to anybody for days... We find you completely plastered... your place a disaster..."
"Didn't you ever go on a binge?" Skip asked testily. He wished Andy would stop bothering him.
"Yeah... when I was nineteen and in college." Andy's voice was scoffing. "You're not exactly nineteen, Cousin. And you've never done this kinda thing before. So I think we have a right to be a little concerned." He paused for a moment and when he continued, his tone had softened considerably. "Ya wanna talk about it?"
"No!" Skip declared emphatically. There was nothing to talk about. What was done was done.
"Come on, man," Andy urged sympathetically. "Something's wrong."
Skip stubbornly shook his head. "Not now, Andy." He rolled over onto his side, his back to his cousin.
Andy sat there quietly for a few moments, then he patted Skip's shoulder. "Okay, Cuz. Maybe later, when you feel a little better."
Skip heard him get up and walk out of the room, closing the door softly. He shut his eyes tightly and wished more than anything that the world would just go away.
Lee woke to some clanking coming from the kitchen and he groaned in protest. He was exhausted. He'd barely walked in the door from a grueling assignment in Yugoslavia, only to find Murphy's message waiting for him. It sounded urgent so he'd caught the first flight out. Now, with jet lag and three days of very little shuteye catching up with him, all he wanted to do was sleep. It looked like that wasn't going to happen.
He rose up from his makeshift bed and stretched out stiff muscles. Skip's couch wasn't very comfortable. He looked over at Murphy, trying to sleep in the old easy chair and decided he hadn't gotten the worst place. He ran his hand over his face. He felt gritty. He hadn't even taken time to shave. He heard the noise from the kitchen again and wandered over to see what was going on.
He found Andy busy making coffee. He hadn't seen his cousins for a while. Working at the Agency left little time for family get togethers. Can that, he told himself. You could make the time.
"Sorry if I woke you up," Andy apologized. "I've been working nights at the station and I'm used to being up."
Lee rubbed at his bleary eyes. "What time is it?"
Andy glanced at his watch. "'Bout three."
Lee plopped down on a tall bar stool. Andy looked different than when Lee had last seen him. He'd cut off that ridiculous pony tail, for starters. His blond hair still brushed his collar but at least Andy had come out of the sixties and joined the rest of the world. He'd also put on a little weight. His face was fuller. Lee supposed they were all getting older and he wondered where the years had flown.
"How's Skip doing?" Lee asked.
Andy shrugged. "He woke up but he didn't say much. He's feelin' pretty sick right now."
"I can imagine." Lee shook his head in bewilderment. He just couldn't picture Skip on a drinking binge.
"Did Murphy show you the book?" Andy asked.
"Yeah... and the letter." Lee frowned. "I don't know what could've happened though."
Andy glanced over at him. "You ever read it?"
Lee shook his head guiltily. "I guess I never got around to it."
Andy laughed lightly. "Don't feel bad, man. I tried a couple of times. Never could make heads or tails out of it. I guess Sam's not the only genius in the family."
"I wonder why NASA didn't buy into it?"
Andy gave him an incredulous look. "Come on, Lee. You work for the government. You ever know them to do the smart thing?"
Lee didn't reply. He felt like he should defend the people he worked for but deep down, he knew his cousin was probably right.
"Skip's up."
Lee turned to see Murphy standing there. He looked as tired as Lee felt.
"I heard the shower come on." He came over and sat down on a stool beside Lee. "Thanks for coming, you guys. I hope it didn't screw up work or anything. I sure didn't want to have to face him by myself."
"No sweat," Andy told him easily.
"I'm between assignments," Lee informed him with a yawn. "I was due a couple of days off."
"And I'm between jobs," Andy put in casually.
"Again?" Murphy asked.
Andy smiled. "That's radio. I go where I'm needed."
"Got anything lined up?" Lee asked.
"A couple of places. I might just end up back in Santa Fe." He set a steaming mug in front of Murphy.
"Doesn't sound very stable," their younger cousin observed. "Aren't you worried?"
"Naw," Andy scoffed. "You know how many places I've worked in the last few years? I've been all over and I've never been outta work longer than a few weeks so don't sweat it."
"If you say so." Lee took the cup of coffee Andy set before him and sipped at it gratefully.
They sat and drank in easy silence but Lee couldn't help but think about the reason they were here. He felt bad that he'd lost touch with his cousins. He really should try harder to see them more often... at least at the yearly reunions. He didn't know why he stayed away. He only knew that each year he found it all too easy to be busy with work... to be on assignment... out of the country. He regretted now that this business with Skip had caught him completely unaware. His only consolation was that Andy and Murphy both seemed as surprised as he'd been. He made a vow to keep better contact in the future.
"Hey, what is this? Nobody told me we were having a party."
All three cousins turned to find Skip standing behind them.
Skip wasn't very steady on his feet. He'd somehow managed to crawl into the shower without falling on his face. It had helped a little but his head was still throbbing and if he wasn't careful, the room started spinning. But at least his stomach was under better control. He stood at the archway into his kitchen, holding onto the wall in what he hoped was a casual manner, and regarded his cousins coolly. He hoped he would be able to carry this aloof routine off but if the truth were known, they were a welcome sight.
"Can I have some of that coffee?"
"Sure thing," Andy replied. He poured out another cup and set it at the bar.
Skip had to let go of the wall before he could walk over to his cousins. Suddenly the few feet seemed a tremendous distance. He took a couple of shuffling steps before an attack of vertigo sent him reeling. He thought he was going to fall but found himself supported in Lee's arms.
"We've got to stop meeting like this," he quipped, trying to make light of the situation.
"Yeah, right." Lee helped him over to sit down on the couch.
Murphy and Andy followed them into the living room. After Skip was settled, Andy handed him the coffee.
"Here, this might help."
"No it won't," Skip shot back, then wished he hadn't. It was the opening his cousins needed to start their interrogation. He really didn't want to go through this. It was why he'd started drinking in the first place, so he wouldn't have to deal with reality.
There was an awkward silence in the room. They had all taken seats around him but Skip wouldn't look up to meet anyone's eyes. They might be determined to go through with this, but that didn't mean he had to help make it any easier for them. Finally, Andy spoke up.
"Are you gonna tell us, Skipper... Or do we have to play twenty questions?"
"There's nothin' to tell," Skip grumbled. He leaned his head back to rest against the throw pillow and gazed up at the ceiling. His stomach was feeling queasy again.
"Uh huh." Andy reached over and picked something up. He tossed it onto Skip's lap.
Skip shifted his eyes to see what it was. Then he closed them tightly. It was the book. He vaguely remembered tearing some of the pages out. From the looks of the battered binding, he must have done a lot more than a few.
"We saw the letter, Skip," Murphy told him quietly. "We know you quit."
"Quit... right. I guess I did."
"Why?" Lee asked evenly.
"I did... that's all. Can't you guys just let it go?" Skip started to get up. "I need some aspirin."
Andy reached up and pulled him back down. The jolt made the pain worse and he leaned forward to rest his head in his hands.
"I'll get it for you," Lee offered. "I think I need some myself."
"Yeah, I noticed you don't look so great," Skip informed him flippantly.
"That's right, make jokes." Murphy sounded angry. Skip glanced over at his younger cousin. He didn't look very happy at the moment. Nobody did.
"Look, you guys," Skip began testily. "Nobody asked you to come here."
"Your mom did," Murphy reminded him. "She was worried."
"We all were," Andy told him, his voice serious.
Skip knew he was being difficult. He knew his cousins were only trying to help. He also knew that if he started talking, he wouldn't be able to stop. He didn't want to lose the small amount of control he had on his emotions.
"Here you go." Lee handed him a couple of tablets and a glass of water.
Skip gave him a tight smile of thanks, then downed the pain-killers. He hoped they worked fast. He leaned back again and closed his eyes. Maybe this was all a dream. When he woke up, his cousins would be gone and the world would right itself. He was wrong. The sound of Lee's voice told him they were still here.
"So... I guess you couldn't cut it anymore, huh?" Lee asked in an icy tone. "You just folded... gave it all up."
Skip knew Lee was baiting him but the words stung nonetheless. He couldn't keep back an angry reply.
"I didn't give anything up," he stated hotly. "They gave up on me." He stood up and walked unsteadily over to the bookcase. He paused for a moment to try and gather his senses then he turned back to his cousin. "You played ball, Lee. You ever have a coach who wouldn't play you?"
"Sure," Lee replied. "It happens sometimes."
"Yeah, well... Try playing on a team like that... for a coach like that, for five years. Five years of never getting to play. It's not much fun, let me tell you. Especially when you know you're the best damn player they've got."
"But Skip," Murphy began reasonably. "There're so few missions and so many astronauts. I'm sure if you waited just a little longer..."
"Wait? Wait for what?" Skip's voice was shaking and he knew it but he couldn't hold back now. They'd broken the dam and it was going to all come spilling out. "I was grounded... grounded! You know what that means? I wasn't going anywhere. Oh, sure... They never came right out and said it, but it was made pretty clear. I was never gonna go up. They were probably gonna let me go anyway sooner or later. I just saved them the trouble and embarrassment. They said I don't have any discipline... that I'm not a team player. A team player... What the hell does that mean!"
He felt the room spinning again and grabbed hold of the bookcase. Andy was suddenly at his elbow. He helped him back over to the couch. Skip sat down wearily, the weight of what he'd just told his cousins pressing on his soul. He breathed out a shaky sigh.
"I never even had a chance. Do you know they had the last moon shot the year I got out of college? There wasn't much left after that. They're gonna let Skylab burn up. They don't care. Oh, sure... they're doing the shuttles. They're not much more than glorified taxis, but I would've flown 'em. I would've done it gladly. But they won't let me. It's not like a regular job where I can just go work for somebody else. It's their game and they won't let me play."
He stopped, suddenly drained. He sat there limply until his eyes fell on his book. A surge of rage swept through him and he grabbed up what was left of it and threw it across the room.
"It's not fair!" he cried, feeling the sting of tears. "It's the only thing I ever wanted to do... The only thing... I did all the work... I did all the training... and I was the best... I was good at what I did. But somebody says no and that's it. All because I had some ideas of my own. It's not fair."
He'd run down. The room was swimming again... but this time it wasn't because of his hangover. He felt the tears spilling over and running down his face. He tried to stop them but it was a losing battle. They had too much of a head start. The alcohol hadn't stopped his pain, it had only delayed it. Now he was at its mercy.
He sat there embarrassed, but unable to do anything about it. He tried closing his eyes, but that didn't help. If anything, the tears only came faster. He knew that in a moment he would be crying like a child. Fortunately his stomach chose that moment to start churning again. It was an easy out. He got to his feet and stumbled to the bathroom.
Murphy sat fidgeting in the uneasy silence. Even with the running water, they could still hear the muffled sound of Skip's ragged sobs. After a few moments, Andy got up and disappeared into the bedroom. He was the one Skip would most likely allow to help him right now.
Murphy knew part of his cousin's state was due to the alcohol. He couldn't possibly have slept off all its effects, and coming down from it would only exaggerate the mood he was in. That was probably why he'd broken down like he did. But it wasn't the whole reason and that knowledge made Murphy uncomfortable.
This wasn't the Skip he knew and he realized maybe he didn't know his cousin as well as he thought. Skip was carefree and irresponsible. They knew he wanted to go into space. He'd talked about it his whole life. But that was just Skip. He talked about a lot of things. Skip had always been the clown, the daredevil, the one to try something just because it was new. He'd never been serious about anything. Skip read Asimov but he also read comic books. He dreamed of going to the moon but he'd never really talked to them about how he planned to do it. Sure, Skip got into the Space Program but he never played the game their way. That was par for the course.
Murphy remembered sitting with Skip at the ranch and watching the first moon landing. It had been exciting for all of them and it was the only time he could recall seeing a glimpse of Skip's true feelings about spaceflight. He hadn't realized it then but he knew now... there was a lot Skip kept locked up inside... feelings Murphy never knew were there. Maybe he thought they wouldn't understand. Whatever the reason, Murphy felt pretty bad that it had to come to something like this. They should've seen it coming.
He glanced over at Lee. His cousin looked uneasy. Murphy knew Lee wasn't very good with emotions. Growing up in the military with Colonel Stetson's medieval notions about how real men behaved had left Lee more than a little inept at handling his own feelings, let alone anyone else's.
Andy came back into the living room. He too looked weary.
"He's gone back to sleep," he announced with a sigh. "I'm sure he'll be okay once he feels better... now that everything's out in the open and off his chest." He sat down onto the couch and pushed his hair out of his face. "I never would've guessed he'd take it so hard."
"None of us did," Lee muttered. He yawned and rubbed at his eyes. "I gotta get some shuteye, guys. You think he'll sleep the rest of the night?"
Andy nodded. "He's out of it. You guys stay here. I found a sleeping bag. I'll just stretch out on the floor in the bedroom in case he wakes up in the night."
Murphy never moved. He watched absently as his cousins got ready to go to bed. His mind was full and he wondered what he was going to tell Aunt Beth. He blinked into awareness when he felt a hand on his shoulder. He looked up and found Lee regarding him with concern.
"You all right?"
Murphy nodded slowly. "Yeah... I guess so."
Lee gave him a reassuring smile. "He'll be fine... you'll see. He is Skip, after all. He'll bounce back."
Murphy met Lee's gaze. "I hope you're right."
Skip sat at the table, slowly eating the toast Murphy had fixed for him. He felt like an entirely different person than he had yesterday. His headache was gone and his stomach was almost back to normal. He didn't remember everything he'd said or done but he supposed that was for the best. He had to get on with life, even if it wasn't the life he would have picked.
Andy was still asleep on the floor in his room. Lee snored lightly from the couch. Murphy had been awake when he got up and he'd insisted Skip eat something. He'd been right. Food was what his abused body needed right now.
Murphy came over with some orange juice and sat down at the table to join him. They ate in silence for a time then Skip decided he'd better say something.
"I, uh... well... thanks for being here," he murmured self-consciously. "I guess I've been pretty stupid."
Murphy shrugged. "You better call your mom," was all he said.
Skip nodded. "I will." He took a small sip of the juice. It tasted good and he downed half the glass.
"Any thoughts about what you're going to do?"
Skip shook his head slowly. "Not a clue."
Murphy looked thoughtful. "There must be lots of things you could do. You're still a licensed pilot, aren't you?"
"Yeah, I guess I am."
"Maybe you could try commercial flying... or maybe start your own charter service."
Skip made a face. "Not exactly glamorous, is it?"
"So what?" Murphy countered defensively. "You just have to keep trying till you find something you like."
"I know." Skip sighed. "I'm just not sure where to start."
"You gonna stay here?"
"No." Skip was emphatic. "I gotta make a change. Maybe I'll go back home... start over there." He brightened. "Hey! Maybe I'll work with you."
"Right," Murphy laughed. "Believe me, you wouldn't want to work where I do. It's a zoo."
"I've always liked working with animals." He fell silent and sobered a little. "I don't know... I guess I'll just have to look around."
He knew what that meant. He was going to have to do some deep soul searching. He'd never planned on doing anything but being an astronaut. But he knew he was going to have to put this all behind him. This was a door that was closed to him. For his own good, he would be better off forgetting all about his days with NASA. He was going to have to start over... make a new beginning. He only hoped he could make a go of it.
It was hot, even for July and the used car lot had absolutely no shade. Sweltering in his sport coat and tie, Skip sat on top of the newly waxed sedan and tried to rid his mind of all its chaotic thoughts. He'd been studying the art of meditation for more than a month and he'd begun to despair of ever getting the hang of it. It seemed every time he sat down and tried to think of nothing, all he could think about was what a waste his life was.
He couldn't believe it had already been two years since he'd left Houston. Taking Murphy's advice, he'd tried many different things but he could never stick with any of the jobs he started. He wasn't good at any of them. He certainly wasn't a very good car salesman. His heart just wasn't in it. He wondered how much longer this stint would last before the manager let him go.
He sighed and closed his eyes, trying to relax and clear his mind. He hadn't been at it very long before he heard someone call his name.
"Skip Carmichael?"
"Yeah, that's me," Skip answered, still trying to keep his mind blank.
"Addison Carmichael?"
Skip winced inwardly and opened up one eye. "Skip will be fine," he instructed evenly then closed his eye again. How did this guy know his name?
"Harry Broderick."
This person was certainly persistent. Skip sighed and gave up. He opened his eyes. The man before him was in his mid fifties, with a full head of thick silver hair. Right now he was holding out his hand in greeting. Skip shook with him briefly.
"Hello, Harry," he replied, then remembered he was supposed to be a salesman. "What can I show you?"
"I'm not looking for a car."
Great, Skip thought but decided to be polite. "Well, what can I do for you?"
The man looked straight at him, his face serious. "You can help me get to the moon."
Skip stared at him for a moment then smiled. "Sure... when do we leave?"
"I'm not kidding."
The smile left Skip's face. This wasn't funny anymore. "Yeah, well... Look, Harry... I'm a little short of investment funds and I'd really prefer you didn't use my name on your letterhead." He gave him a wink. "Okay?" With that he turned and slid off the hood of the car. Just what he needed today... a kook. He started to walk away.
"Ya wanna talk about the Trans-Linear Vector Principle?"
Skip stopped in his tracks and turned around. He eyed the stranger suspiciously. "Where'd you hear about that?"
For the first time, Harry smiled. "I read your book."
Skip felt a smile start on his own face but he wasn't ready to give in yet. This had to be a put on. He walked back towards the man.
"Okay, Harry. What's your game?"
"I'm in the scrap business and I wanna salvage the moon."
"Just like that?"
"Just like that."
Skip regarded the man critically. "Ya know, you don't look like a nut." It was true. The man looked pleasant enough, maybe a little down-homey but certainly not crazy.
Harry's face grew determined. "Let's quit waltzing around. I'm offering you a job that pays double whatever you make here. I'm also offering you a chance you never got... a shot at the moon. Is that worth a little conversation... hmmm?"
Skip didn't reply. This man had walked in out of nowhere. He couldn't possibly be serious. Yet here he was, book in hand and talking about the dreams Skip hadn't allowed himself to indulge in for a long time. It was crazy... it could never happen... and yet... what could it hurt? He wouldn't be any worse off than he was now. If there was the remotest chance this man could fill the void in his life, then Skip would take that risk. He would see what Harry Broderick had to say.
*The dialogue in this scene is taken entirely from the television movie, Salvage, written by Mike Lloyd Ross. Many thanks Mike.