"We're not going to a picnic," I blurted sharply, thinking about the equipment we would have to lower from the ship. I was sorry I had spoken forgetting for an instant the rough time she was having. She stepped back at the loudness of my voice, crimson spreading to her cheeks. She bit her lip, blurting, "I'm sorry."
"Don't be. We're all getting jumpy I guess," I said.
Paul stepped to her and put his arm around her shoulders in assurance. "We will know in a few minutes."
"I just wanted to walk in the sunshine," she said. "It was always so hot at El Paso. The heat used to make the mountains shimmer."
Paul straightened up. "Do you remember the base?"
She nodded, "Yes. I used to work in a white building. We had a radio in lab but it never played when they tested the engines."
"Do you remember the little bar?"
"I think so ... where I danced and a funny man made faces when he played the piano," she mused. Paul shook his head at us. We had stopped watching the colors change in the tubes. I could picture the squat concrete buildings that sat on a checkerboard of dusty roads.
"Karen, try to think. Do you recall when we went to the ship. It rained for the first time in months that night. We drove in the rain."
"I was afraid of the ship," she said.