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“Personal days are used for personal things, and sick days can be used for recovering from those personal things.” He checks his phone one more time before tilting the screen towards you. “Go/no go is at noon. So if it’s no go, then we get on the next flight home and use a sick day tomorrow recovering from jet lag. Jet lag makes you sick, right?”
“I mean, it can.” You take his phone and look at the livestream he’s pulled up. The lady on screen is explaining the purpose of liquid oxygen. The launch pad and rocket are in the background, blurry but still the stars of the show. “Because us missing the same days together doesn’t look suspicious, does it?” You hand his phone back to him.
“You were crazy enough to say yes.”
Of course you were. When Ryland Grace walks into your classroom and asks you to do something, you can’t say no. Even if it is hopping on a flight you have less than an hour to plan for.
You can’t remember the last time you were in Florida. You were definitely a child, and you were definitely here on an overnight field trip to Kennedy Space Center. You have vague memories of freeze dried ice cream sandwiches while telling your best friend about Sally Ride. The nostalgic haze lingers over you as you look back towards the coastline.
In the distance, the launch pad and rocket sit. Based on the image from the livestream, the reporter is on the other side of the cape. She’s in a cushy press box while you stand with your bare feet in the sand. Your pant legs are rolled up to your knees, but they’re still getting wet. Little sand bubbler crabs get tossed and turned in the waves that lap against you.
Maybe this was a crazy idea. Maybe this is where you’re supposed to be.
“I feel bad for drinking this at 11 on a school day.” You look at the fruity blended cocktail.
“Personal days for personal reasons.” Ryland shrugs and takes a sip of the beer he has. “What are they going to do, fire us for using the personal days that don’t roll over?”
You wiggle your toes and sink into the sand. “Sure. When they find out that both of their 8th grade science teachers are going and watching a rocket launch on the other side of the country.”
“I mean, this could be considered professional development.” You can tell that he’s struggling, too, but that this is so much more with it than sitting in your classrooms with the live stream opened and trying to teach at the same time. “C’mon. The kids are taken care of. I’ve only gotten ten emails!”
“The kids are taken care of.” You smile and roll your eyes. “Makes us sound like we have a gaggle of children we’re raising, and we’ve sent them off to grandma’s. They’re hours behind us, though. Ten emails before the first bell’s even rang.”
“We’re not raising a gaggle of kids together?” Ryland pretends like you’ve hurt his feelings.
You sigh. “Sure, you’re right. We’re raising kids.” You push that though onto a shelf in the back of your mind. “The future is in our hands.”
Ryland points to the launchpad. “That is what’s in our hands.” He gestures wider. “You and I are responsible for making sure they know how important science is. How they’re the backbone of the world.” Ryland pauses and takes a drink from his beer. “Damn. That’s actually a scary thought.”
“Again, here we are. Slackers.” You pull your phone from your pocket and see several emails from your kids, too. Ryland’s children aren’t as needed as yours, but you’re okay with it. They’re asking you to proofread their essays, but only if you’re not busy. And if you are busy, they want to know what you’re busy with. You did post the assignment while on the flight last night, so some of your overachievers have already started and finished their assignments. “What did you leave your small children?”
“Popsicle sticks, glue, tape, ping pong balls. They’re designing landing systems.”
You suddenly feel bad. “Oh. We’re in the middle of writing an essay.” You take a nice, long drink. Your nose already feels red. You’re not sure if it’s sunburn or alcohol related.
“Don’t feel bad. My kids wrote essays for homework on spring break.”
‘That makes me feel a little better.”
“Just kidding. I’m not that kind of monster.” He can tell from the way that your face falls that, though the joke is somewhat funny, he could have delivered it in any other way. “Yeah, that’s on me.”
“Jerk.” You look at the beach around you. So far, very few people have actually filed in around you. Of course, it’s still 7 hours or more till launch. Being alone with Ryland on a beach is something else that you need to put in the back of your head, on a shelf, that’s in a locked closet. Along with the plane ticket he bought. And the hotel room with two beds he booked. Totally on a whim.
“Our test scores are always comparable, though.” Ryland shrugs. “So, obviously, we’re both doing something good.”
You wish you could be as fun as Ryland. Every time you pop into his classroom, he’s always doing something new and fun. You spend most days feeling like you’re reading from a scripted curriculum, even though you promise you’re not. You’d been hired a couple of years after Ryland, so he always says that when you’ve taught as long as he has, you’ll be just as good as him. It makes you smile.
“So I think this is a reward for being good teachers.” He reaches to tink his beer bottle with your little plastic cup. “And to raising good kids.”
As soon as the launch is confirmed, you both put in your time off. You click post on the next set of assignment instructions. Tomorrow is another personal day. Friday is a sick day. Just like Ryland suggested. You respond to a couple of emails that your sub has sent, and add to your online classroom how to watch the launch live, if they’re done with their work or can efficiently multitask. You also email the instructions to the sub. A couple of emails come in, asking is that where you and Dr. Grace went?
You simply slip your laptop in your bag and zip it up.
“How’d you swing this, last minute?” You look out the window. Beachfront hotel, full bar. Another drink and maybe a cup of ice cream is calling your name.
“I keep an emergency budget.”
“For two?” You did manage to convince him to let you pay him back for the plane ticket. Still, you can’t imagine how much this room cost.
Ryland holds the door open for you. You quietly thank him when he joins you in the hallway. You mentally check your person for your phone and room keys. Ryland does the same thing. He wiggles the door just to be safe.
“Look, I knew no one else would do this with me, and I certainly didn’t want to do this alone. Who better to share it with?”
As you quietly walk towards the elevator, you mentally think about this. You’re on a spontaneous vacation with a coworker. Sharing a hotel room. If it were anyone else, you’d probably deny it. But two 8th grade science teachers climbing on a plane, landing at 7 in the morning, checking into a hotel, and power napping before getting right to day drinking while watching a rocket launch to the moon?
You signed right the fuck up and didn’t think twice about it.
And now, you still don’t feel like anything is weird. Sharing a room with Ryland might be awkward because there’s obviously some kind of unspoken feelings between the two of you, but Ryland is a gentleman.
You’re two professionals.
And even though you are two professionals, you both somehow end up with the third alcoholic beverage of the day in your hands. Personal days are for personal things, and you’re starting to realize that this is a very personal thing.
“Never seen a rocket launch? Seriously?”
You shake your head. “I went to school to be a teacher. Science is just what I happened to be interested in at the time.”
“So you hate science now.”
“No, Ryland. Stop putting words in my mouth.”
“Nope. That’s what you said.” He nudges you politely. “And my feelings are very hurt.”
His laugh is a little deeper than usual. You reckon the alcohol is hitting him like it’s hitting you. Part of you knows that this isn’t just a quick vacation. You don’t just take your coworker (and friend. Yes, you’re his friend.) in a cross-country adventure. You want to poke and prod more. Desperately want to ask questions, but your silly little Mai Tai heats your cheeks and lets you know that maybe, the alcohol wants to ask questions, instead of you.
“No, I love science. I thought about being a history teacher, but decided that science would challenge me more. That’s what I want, a challenge.”
The alcohol has also seemed to give you temporary time blindness, as well. Because you’re now suddenly aware that you’re sharing a beach towel, close to the edge of the water. You’re almost squished together due to the beach crowding. You realize that introverted Dr. Ryland Grace does not give a shit about all of these people that are crowding around you.
Which is extremely surprising to you.
“Teaching wasn’t my first choice.” He pulls his knees to his chest. “Course, you knew that.” You watch as he fiddles with his hands. That makes him more nervous than being in a big group with people. Any time his previous career prospects get brought up, he acts like he’s going to combust. “But I’m fine with it.”
You hum in response. You find yourself scooting just a little closer as someone walks beside you. They apologize to you, and you apologize to Ryland.
“With what? Teaching, or me knowing why you’re teaching?”
He chews on the question. You’re not even sure why you asked it, but it seems appropriate enough. You’ve known him for a couple years, now. You fear that you’re his only friend. You figure that you’re feeling confident enough to ask. It’s not like it’s going to ruin your friendship.
“Both.” He sips his drink. “I think I like teaching much better than I would have any other potential career.” Ryland checks the live stream on his phone.
T minus 15.
“Exciting.”
The same lady covering the event is in the same location as she was a couple hours ago. You’ve migrated just a little closer to the beach. The sun isn’t nearly as blistering as it was before. The slight breeze blows in a coastal smell that is ever so slightly dissimilar to the one you’re used to.
“Very.”
You’re so close to him. Should showers brush together every time one of you takes a drink.
You also chew on things that you want to say. There’s so many different things you could ask. Why did he ask you to come? Is the alcohol doing silly things to him, too? Would it be possible to do this again?
“Sorry for dragging you out here, by the way.”
You perk your head up. “Why would you be sorry?”
“Well, I-“ He glances your way, just for a second. “I just jumped you with let’s get on a plane in two hours and go to Florida and didn’t really give you the choice.”
“Ryland,” you quietly scold. “Do not apologize for what is going to be the coolest thing I’ve ever seen.”
That gets his attention. “This is the coolest thing you’ve ever seen?” His voice cracks. He’s embarrassed by that. When you don’t respond, he blinks a couple of times. “I do not believe you.”
“I’ve done cool things, sure. But getting to see this, with you? That’s pretty freaking cool.”
He opens his mouth to respond, but someone behind you starts yelling about the launch time. He inhales sharply while the woman loudly explains to the man next to her the purpose of liquid oxygen. Ryland leans closer to you, his mouth near your ear.
“We’ll have to tour Kennedy! I bet you’ll find it cooler than this!”
You turn to face him. His face is close to yours. Your face is close to his. His nose has sunscreen right on the tip of it, like a life guard from a campy movie shot in the early 2000s.
The alcohol also makes you realize that you’re absolutely head over heels for Ryland Grace.
That force of that hits you.
“Why’d you ask me?”
He borrows his brow at the question. “Who else would I ask?” He raises his voice for you to hear him better. You’d let him get closer if he wanted to. “Are you offended that I didn’t ask someone else?”
“No!” Now it’s your turn to be embarrassed. “No, I’m glad you asked me. I just… feel like there could have been a million other people that you could have asked. Instead, you asked… me.” Perhaps the answer was obvious, and it was right in front of you. But this leap is very sudden. Ryland Grace kidnaps another science teacher and takes them to see a rocket launch. The answer does seem obvious, but you almost don’t want to accept it.
“We could… change our flight to tomorrow night. And go to Kennedy tomorrow.” He dodges the question. You’re ready to drop it. “No one else would appreciate this the way you would.” He huffs as he finishes his beer.
You offer him a sip of your drink. Without hesitation, he takes a drink from the two little black straws. He’s not sure if he likes it or not. “Well, I do appreciate-“ you motion to the launch pad in front of you. Two miles out and yet it still feels like you could reach out and pick the rocket up with your fingers. “-bringing me. I don’t think anyone’s ever invited me to do something like this before.”
“You did say this was the coolest thing you’ve ever done.” Ryland giggles again. He checks his phone one last time, checking the time. “Last bell is about to ring. They’re gonna get on the buses when the rocket launches.”
You rest against him, trying to squirm away from the people next to you. “Think they’ll be watching?”
“If they know what’s good for them.”
However, they don’t know what’s good for them.
“It could just be us.”
Right now, there is no world besides the little blue beach towel, the empty beer bottle, the cocktail, and two 8th grade science teachers.
“Our secret.” Ryland pinches the air near your drink, asking for another sip. You raise the straws to his mouth. It’s a small sip. “Thanks.”
“Sure. Our secret.”
T minus 3.
“Ryland?”
He glances back at you.
“Are we supposed to be treating this like an intimate moment?” You look at him, and decide to not wait for his reaction before you continue. “Because I’m accidentally treating this like an intimate moment. And I don’t want to mistake it for something it isn’t.”
You don’t get an answer. Instead, Ryland rests his head on your shoulder. He plays with the beer bottle for a second before putting it down. Another sigh.
“If that’s the case, then I think we can’t consider this a professional development trip.”
“So… is that a yes?”
“Our secret, intimate moment between two people taking personal days?” People behind you start to count. “I would really like that.”
The horizon is flooded with exhaust and water vapor. The bright light of the thrusters floods your field of view. From this distance, it hurts to look at. You divert your gaze to the actual star of the show. The SLS lifts off, and raises higher and higher, eventually clearing the tower. It happens in seconds, but they drag on. It’s a pleasant drag. The weight of Ryland against you. Your world, a secret little, sacred thing.
You feel the rumble as the rocket continues on its journey through the atmosphere. It’s not loud. It’s more like a growl. Like humanity’s triumph. Your whole body vibrates. You feel tears in your eyes. You’re not sad. It’s the opposite. An overwhelming sense of joy.
“Thank you,” Ryland whispers as you watch the boosters separate and fall back down to Earth. You’re not sure what he’s referring to but you don’t particularly care.
You press a kiss to his forehead before finishing your drink. Maybe if you stop now, you won’t be hung over tomorrow for your trip to the Space Center.
After a quick shower to wash off all of the beach grime, you find yourself wondering if you should crawl back into your original bed or not. You sit on your bed, letting your buzz fade away as you respond to emails that you had previously neglected. More begging to know where you were. Wondering if their essays were good. You address it with a simple classroom announcement.
Hi kids,
I’ve taken the rest of the week off. Your assignment is posted. Finish your essay, turn it in by Friday afternoon. If you finish early, I think you should research space travel. Take notes on something you find interesting, whether it be a particular space mission, lunar landing, or favorite astronaut. Let’s get our creative juices flowing for next week. We’re gonna go to space!
After Ryland gets out of the shower, he plops onto his own bed and drags his laptop out of his bag. You watch as he responds to a couple of emails, himself. Then, he opens up the life feed of the astronauts. He puts the laptop on the table next to his bed and glances at you, sheepish. His face is sunburned, but so is yours.
“I have some aloe.”
The relief on his face is instantaneous. “You are magical.” He motions towards his bed. “Care to… watch the flight checks together?”
“Sure. As long as you get aloe on your face. You’re going to blister.” You grab the aloe from your toiletries bag and walk over to Ryland’s bed. You put the aloe on his nose, cheeks, and forehead. His skin is warm to the touch, and getting warmer the longer you stand there. “Looks good, Ry.”
“Your turn.” He reaches for the bottle. “If… if you’re okay with that.”
You hand the bottle over and smile as he dabs aloe gently across your face. “You picked wood chips out of my hair last year when I oh so gracefully fell off the monkey bars.”
“And that’s why we’re not allowed outside until after the dew dries up.”
“That is not the point.”
“I know. The point is that you’re okay with me touching you. Right?” You nod. “But, I fear we’ve been drinking so I want to make sure that I’m not reading the situation wrong.” Once he’s done with the aloe, he places it on the table and rubs what’s left on to the tops of his burned hands. “Your comfort is important to me.”
“I’d be more comfortable if I were sitting down for the rest of the night.”
“I have great news for you, then.” He gestures to his bed. “Or of course…” He gestures to your bed, too.
You climb onto the bed next to him, trying to be polite. It’s hard, climbing into the bed of a coworker that you may or may not have been smitten over for since you met him. You’re not too sure what happens next, other than feeling suddenly tired. Your buzz is gone, and now the jet lag and post-alcohol pre-hangover pain has caught up.
You feel yourself fighting sleep. You want to desperately continue to watch the live stream of the astronauts in orbit, completing flight-checks. Ryland is enthralled. His eyes are glued to his laptop. If your eyes weren’t about to be glued to the backs of your eyelids, they would also be watching.
You’re nestled against his chest, his heart quietly thumping as his, too, grows tired. His hand plays with your hair. He occasionally kisses your forehead. At some point, he takes his glasses off and turns down the volume of his laptop.
“Coolest thing ever?”
“The rocket launch?”
“Yeah.”
You shake your head. “Second coolest.”
“Let me guess. This is the coolest thing ever.” Another gentle kiss against your forehead.
Your face heats up. “Now you’re making me feel embarrassed.” You’re not serious about it, and he knows that. “I was referring to the actual astronauts and their flight-checks. But sure, this is pretty freaking cool, Ry.”
“If you think this is cool, just wait till you see the Kennedy Space Center.”
You groan. “Stop being so humble.”
“Yeah, no. Can’t do that.” His hand squeezes your arm. “Seriously, the Space Center is so cool. You get to-“
As much as you’d love the full pre-tour briefing from Dr. Ryland Grace, your body decides that it’s comfortable and safe, which are the perfect conditions for falling into a deep, and restful sleep.