"Robert Tine - The Astronaut's Wife" - читать интересную книгу автора (Tine Robert)

eyes, a slight frown, a tiny gesture that suggested that sometimes he hadnтАЩt quite been able to
bring himself to buy the whole NASA story. They were married, they were exceptionally close.
But she could never bring herself to ask Spencer about it. It would have been too much like
treason.

Fred Astaire was singing about trouble coming.
All this is not to suggest that Spencer Armacost was your typical bleeding-NASA-blue flier.
He knew enough to know a stupid order when he heard One, he knew that NASA was more than
likely to make a mistakeтАФ.and he knew it long before the Challenger disaster claimed the lives
of six astronauts and the civilian Christa McAuliffe.
Fred Astaire continued, singing about moonlight and -love.
Spencer was a thoughtful, well-read man with a passion for flying. He was also the only
member of the next shuttle mission who knew anything at all about the career of Fred AstaireтАФa
fact which set
him well apart from his fellow fliers who tended to have more red-meat tastes in movies. If they
ever saw movies at all, that is.
Fred Astaire was concluding: the only thing to do was dance.
Jillian and Spencer were sprawled in their big bed and you could read the history of that short
evening in the archeology of the debris spread around them. On the floor, at the base of the bed
was an empty bottle of pinot noir and two stemmed glasses, both drained to the dregs. Next to
them were some simple white-and-blue pasta bowls, a few strands of spaghettini nestled in a
pool of sauce at the bottom. Closer to the bed was a pair of menтАЩs pants, bunched and snarled as
if they had been hastily kicked off; nearby, as light as a small sheet of gossamer, a pair of pearl-
colored womenтАЩs panties.
The languor of the couple in their bed, their limbs intertwined, told the rest of the story. Their
eyes were soft and tired as they watched the movie, their faces lit by the flickering of the
television set, the black-and-white movie washing their skin a pale blue. And they stared at it
fixedly, as if as long as the movie ran they could keep the real world at bay for a few more
moments.
Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers danced a vigorous pas de deux on the deck of a Hollywood-
class battleship as chorus boys dressed as grizzled old salts danced behind them.
Spencer shifted slightly but kept his eyes on the television set. тАЬYou know,тАЭ he said, тАЬthis flies
in the face of everything I know about the United States Navy...тАЭ
His wife smiled and ran her fingers through his hair. тАЬIs that so? Too bad you didnтАЩt join up.тАЭ
Spencer stretched. тАЬWell, this was made in 1936 or тАШ37тАФbefore the big build up for the
Second World War. I guess the Navy was just different back then.тАЭ
тАЬI guess everything changed after Pearl Harbor,тАЭ Jillian said, laying back on her pillow.
тАЬThereтАЩs nothing like a sneak attack from a hostile foreign power to ruin a good fleet song-and-
dance routine. WouldnтАЩt you say?тАЭ
тАЬUh-huh.тАЭ But it seemed that her husband had lost interest in the joke. His eyes were locked
on the screen of the television set with more intensity than a light bit of fluff musical like the
Astaire-Rogers musical Follow the Fleet would seem to require. It was as if he was hearing the
music and the words, seeing the images for the first time and was completely enchanted by them.
Jillian, by contrast, looked less than pleased. тАЬI hate this part,тАЭ she said.
Spencer looked away from the television screen long enough to shoot a quick glance at his
wife. Then his eyes flicked back to the screen. The whole gesture had taken no more than a split
second. тАЬThis part?тАЭ he said. тАЬThis part is the best part.. He added his own voice to Fred
.тАЬ