What a horrible first day, Joe thought.

Harold and Jean had retired to the guest room, the embers were smoldering at the base of the fireplace, and the rocket was still on CBS, stuck on it’s launchpad with two minutes left until blastoff.

“It’s expected that, given proper weather conditions, people will be observing this flight from as much as five-hundred miles away. This includes a large portion of the southeastern United States, the northern tip of Cuba, and the Bahama Islands.”

Anna was on the couch with Arthur at her breast. The moonlight caught itself between the stiff folds of her cream robe making her appear like an ivory statue of the Madonna. Her lips were motionless too, but the melody of “The Dock of the Bay” buzzed quietly between them.“He has your eyes,” she said.

The comment caught Joe behind the knees and he was glad he was sitting down. “But everyone says he looks like you.”

“They’re supposed to say that, silly. I’m the mom.”

Joe slid closer. Anna nestled into his side, forcing his arm out of the space between them and around her shoulder. Arthur’s eyes were open.

“See the way the corners turn down?” She looked back and studied Joe’s eyes, then touched his left tear duct with her thumb. “I bet they’ll be grey too.” Her lips were chapped, her skin pale, but when Anna smiled at Joe, it warmed him more deeply than the fire.

“Here.” She rolled her shoulder to pull her blouse over her breast, then transferred to baby into his arms.

It was easier this time, but Joe didn’t look down.

On the television: “The automatic sequencer has stopped the replenishing of the liquid oxygen and the liquid hydrogen. We’re standing by now to begin pressurization of the fuel tanks, the second stage fuel tank pressurized, third stage fuel tank pressurized. The countdown continuing to move along smoothly.”

“Joe?” Anna said.

“Yeah?”

“You can look at him...”

Joe's eyelids fluttered. He had been staring at the TV. “I was just—”

Anna raised her brows and nodded ever-so slightly.

Joseph looked down.

Arthur’s cheeks still held the pink imprint of the oxygen mask. His eyes were nothing but slits, but they were bright and alive behind the lids. He didn’t blink, but watched Joseph as if the man was the only other being in his tiny world. His fingers scrunched and flexed, his legs squirmed, his eyes never left his father.

Without explanation, the wheeze in Arthur’s chest faded and for the first time, Joe heard the breath behind the wheeze. And with the breath came the tiniest murmur. It was a human sound, a sound an adult might make while dreaming. It had the makings of a voice... a voice that would never learn to speak, but a voice none-the-less.

“T-minus forty-five, and Gene Cernan made that final guidance alignment. That’s the last action taken by the crew aboard the space vehicle.”

They told Joe he would feel new urges when Arthur was born. They told him he would become a father when he saw his son for the very first time. They weren’t wrong... only a couple days off. Lost in the presence of his child, Joe finally felt the urge; the urge to work, to provide, to bestow this tiny being with every conceivable desire, to fight the Vietcong with his bare hands if it would make the world that much safer for Arthur Lasker.

“T-minus seventeen. Final guidance release. We expect ignition release at eight-point-nine. Ten. Nine. Eight. Seven. Ignition sequence started. All engines are started. We have ignition. Two. One. Zero. We have a liftoff! We have a liftoff!”