Jack’s mouth quirks. “Oftentimes, early in the development life cycle of a mission, we live in the gray. Develop mission concepts. Do systems modeling and analysis. We’re like producers managing a lot of moving parts and numerous teams trying to keep everyone happy and working in sync, all within a tight budget and timeline.”
“Sounds like you really know what you’re doing,” I say.
“Apparently that’s not enough,” Jack says on an exhale. “The role went to a guy who’s the total opposite of me. Social, involved,inspirational. A real team player. I thought I was a team player because I do my job well. When the next promotion cycle comes around, I need to be ready.”
I nod along. “Hence doing things like this program.”
“I can get really into the weeds, and my manager wants me to see the forest,” he says. “And teach my team about the forest in an inspiring way. That’s the best idiom I’ve got.”
“I was hoping for something space-themed, given where we are, but I get it,” I say, nudging him.
A bigger smile forms on Jack’s face. For a few seconds, we’re just there, frozen in the moment. Staring at each other above the center of the universe, where there’s beeping and blinking lights, the cosmos at people’s fingertips. I take a deep breath in, steadying myself.
And then I have to ask. “Why did you kiss me?” I whisper.
Jack inhales quickly and looks around. “Rooney, we shouldn’t be talking about this here. I—”
“I just want to know what it meant.” I tug at a loose thread on the waistline of my sweater. “What it meant to you.”
“Honestly? I don’t know what it meant anymore. I’ve never done anything like that before. And now it’s more complicated, especially since we work together.” He pauses. “But while we’re on the topic, why didn’t you text me?” he asks, his tone flat.
“Why didn’t I text you?” I whisper. “If you had given me the right number, you’d know I tried contacting you.”
“You must have gotten the numbers mixed up,” he says, his steely reserve softening.
“I texted you on the number you gave me,” I explain. “When I realized it was the wrong one, I texted dozens of versions to try to get it right. When that didn’t work, I called every downtown hotel looking for you. I even went to see if Dave might know how to reach you.”
His eyebrows shoot up in surprise. “Yeah. Dave is long gone. I tried to find the painting you were a part of at MoMA. Can confirm that you are uncredited. But that pea flower sunset? Wow.”
The fact that he remembers this small detail makes my heart swell.
“I must’ve searched for the Chinese restaurant we ate at thousands of times,” he adds. “I couldn’t for the life of me find it.”
“Oh, yeah. It closed down a month after. Now it can only exist in our memories.” Just like how I thought you were going to exist, I don’t say. Instead, I just keep smiling and pretending everything is totally fine, but there’s a sadness deep down. “I spend months searching for you, and you searching for me. Then suddenly we’re both here. Isn’t that amazing?”
“I never thought our paths would cross again,” Jack says.
“And now they have, but things are… well, they’re different, aren’t they? We work together now.” I think for a moment, trying to untangle the thread. “We have new knowledge. Like how you want a promotion and need this program to do well, how I want to get my art career off the ground in a big way, how this knit blend does not work in the desert.”
Jack looks at my sweater and smiles. “Give it a few months and it’ll be perfect.”
I keep my smile in place. “Regardless of everything, it’s nice to have a friend here.”
“Yes. A friend,” Jack says skeptically. “I don’t really have friends at work.”
“Now you do.”
A small sense of closure washes over me. Closure for that night but also for my wavering belief in the red thread. After that night with Jack, I felt like it had fizzled out. Everything felt hopeless in love and work. At certain points of our night together, it really feltlike this man in front of me could be my stringmate. And when that night ended, it took part of me with it.
Now it strikes me that, if that night meant anything, maybe it was ultimately about bringing us here together now, at NASA. Jack saw my installation and didn’t get a promotion. People littered in my garbage net, and it got cut down. We were brought together so that we could help each other in this way. Professionally and not romantically.
It could be that my string and Jack’s string are overlapping, but they’re not connected. This is all just part of the process. There must be something—or someone—else for me here.
Jack looks down at the ground. “Rooney, can we not let that night affect our working relationship? There was this guy who was recently fired for having an intimate relationship with one of the vendors he worked with. He showed preferential treatment. With my job, the promotion, I can’t risk it. New York has to stay in the past.”
I wave my hands. “I don’t want you to lose anything, Jack. I don’t want me to, either.”
His jaw flexes as he clenches it. “You’re here for a year, and then you’ll go back to New York City. I know this is unusual. That night we met, we agreed not to talk about our work. Now we’re at work. Together. The irony.”
