WELCOME TO THE HUNDRED-MILE-HIGH CLUB

Abby thought her husband was setting her up for a joke, and probably a dumb one. “You have got to be kidding me,” she said, staring at his tablet. “This is ridiculous.”

“Just watch,” Grant replied. The video opened on a coastal landscape, the sun glistening on the waves as a couple walked hand in hand toward a rocket with a small, rounded spacecraft on top. In the next shot, white smoke billowed as the rocket rose from the launching pad.

Abby laughed. “That’s subtle. Do we get a closeup of an actual penis, too?”

“Why do you want to see somebody else’s?” Grant said, grinning. She watched as the camera zoomed in on the capsule high above Earth, then cut to the passengers kissing. The following sequence showed the woman’s expensive underwear drifting around the cabin and the two of them floating in a naked, weightless embrace. The ad ended with a splashdown at sea, a helicopter approaching as a sultry female voice said, “StarMagic. A new world for your wildest dreams.”

“Let me get this straight,” Abby said. “You get on a rocket, go into orbit, fool around, and come back down. That’s all?”

“That’s what StarMagic does, Ab. It’s like that couples getaway place in the Poconos where my aunt and uncle used to go, only you’re in zero gravity. Seriously, doesn’t it look like an incredible experience?”

“Well, the cost is incredible,” she said, trying not to laugh again. “Eighty thousand dollars for one hour in space?”

“It’s more like an hour and a half. Besides, I can make eighty grand in an hour, you know.”

“Look, I appreciate your trying to do something special for our anniversary. This just isn’t my idea of fun. It’s not what space travel is for.”

Grant looked surprised. “Let’s talk about it,” he said, shifting into his “reasonable person” voice. “What are your feelings?”

That, she knew, meant Why are you being difficult? “First of all, I don’t want to get blown up or drowned just to have sex.”

“They’ve never had an accident, babe. You worry too much.”

“No, I don’t. My father was an engineer at NASA, remember?” Abby said tersely. “My whole family cried when the Columbia broke apart.”

“I remember that too, but I was a little kid. The other shuttle that blew up, the Challenger? That’s ancient history. It’s 2035. Space tourism is routine.”

“It might be common but it is not routine. There’s a difference.”

“Whoa, easy there counselor,” Grant said, his tone suddenly sharp. “Of all the billions of people who’ve ever lived, how many have been in space? Wouldn’t your dad want you to be one of them?”

He always homed in on her weak points. Gritting her teeth, Abby listened as he continued, “The sex in zero-g will be fantastic. And if we don’t do this now, we might never get another chance. Think about it, okay?” He banged the door shut on his way out of her home office, though she’d asked him more than once to please not do that.

*****

When Abby had time to think, sitting with her tea on the deck in late afternoon, she still couldn’t quite believe Grant’s idea. After her father devoted his life to NASA’s mission of exploring the unknown, StarMagic’s “Hundred-Mile-High Club” seemed almost sacrilegious. Yet she had always longed to follow Dad’s footsteps all the way into space—and if she wanted to tell him she’d made the journey, she’d have to do it soon.

The timing was right for another reason: an adventure like this would be out of the question if and when they became parents, hopefully in the next year or two. The bonuses from Grant’s hedge fund and her law firm would cover the outrageous cost. And though she’d never dreamed of solving the problem this way, a fling in outer space might pull them out of the sexual rut they’d been in for what felt like forever. The timing, foreplay, and positions were nearly always the same, and though she’d tried to talk to him about it, they were rarely what Abby enjoyed most.

*****

They were reading in bed, Grant checking the Asian markets while Abby tried to concentrate on a novel, then decided it was time to clear the air. “I’ve been thinking about our anniversary,” she said a little uncertainly.

“And?” Grant said, not looking up from the Nikkei index.

“I’m still concerned about the danger.” He put down his phone. “But—” She hesitated, then let the words rush out. “If you really want to do this, we can.”

His face broke into a huge smile. “You’re gonna love it, I promise,” he said, holding her tight. “I’ll take care of it.”

*****

Abby soon found out it wasn’t that simple. “Have you seen all this junk they’re sending us?” she asked one evening. “They’re pushing something called Moonglow wine that comes in a tube.”

Grant chuckled at that. “The medical questionnaire,” she said, waving the printout, “wants us to list any ‘issues’ that might stop us from enjoying ourselves. And,” she added, mimicking the bedroom voice on the StarMagic video, “We’d have to use their special zero-g lubricant because any other kind would get all over the cabin.”

Grant laughed and muted his basketball game. “We never need that stuff. And we don’t have to drink.”

“There’s more.” Abby opened a clip of a shirtless man with a pained expression on his face. The announcer advised sympathetically, “While the effects of the zero-g environment vary for each individual, its impact on the blood flow in the body may result in mild or temporary ED for some men.”

“That’s crap,” Grant said. “I read tons of reviews. Nobody mentioned it.”

“Honey, do you think any man would admit it? Or that anyone would call out their partner in public?”

“It’s not going to happen.” His voice had acquired that little edge that signaled he was thinking about getting pretty mad.

“Hey, I don’t expect it to happen,” Abby said, slipping her arm around his shoulder. “All I’m saying is we need to be realistic. I’m excited about going into space even if we don’t get the big bang.”

Smiling again, he said, “Oh, we will,” and Abby wanted to believe him. The flight would fulfill a dream and make her father happy, if only for a short while. As Grant pointed out, it would place her in the tiny fraction of humankind that had ventured beyond the planet. But secretly, she also hoped to discover a supernova.

*****

“Here we go,” Grant said. “Are you ready?”

“I sure am,” Abby said, squeezing his hand. “We’ve got a great day, too.” They’d almost had to postpone the trip due to a forecast of rough seas that could jeopardize the recovery of their little spaceship. Luckily, the sea was quiet this morning, the offshore breeze barely stirring and just a few wispy clouds drifting over the launch site outside Savannah.

“Time to board,” said Viviana, their StarMagic “host.” Suddenly nervous, Abby stared up at the rocket towering over the flat, sandy field. Her stomach fluttered as an elevator carried them up to the capsule, where Viviana opened the hatch. “After you,” Grant said. Taking a quiet deep breath, she stepped through.

Glancing around the cabin, she guessed it was about the size of the solar-powered airport shuttle they’d ridden the day before. The padded light pink walls had big windows on all sides and a door labeled “Toilet” in the back. The console between the two couches was like a minibar, stocked with zero-g drinks, snacks, and “Pleasure Enhancements.” Though Abby knew the ship was fully automated, it seemed strange not to see instruments and gauges, like the ones in the pictures her father had kept.

Viviana helped them get comfortable and buckled their safety harnesses tight. “Remember, you must keep these on until you get clearance from flight control,” she said sternly. “Do you have any questions?”

“No,” they responded in unison. “Great! Have a wonderful time,” Viviana said. “I’ll see you when you get back.” The instant the hatch closed behind her, the reality of their decision hit with full force. “Grant,” Abby said, clutching the armrests of her seat. “We’re doing this. We’re going into space.”

“I know, I can’t believe it either. Everybody’s going to be amazed when they hear the story—well, maybe not the whole thing,” he said with a wink. The control system piped up, “Be sure your seat harness is securely fastened.”

“Is there going to be a countdown like there used to be on TV?” Grant asked.

“Probably,” Abby said. Sure enough, the system spoke again: “We are two minutes from liftoff. Should you wish to cancel the launch for any reason, press the Stop button NOW.” Abby was counting down the time to herself when the system said loudly, “We are thirty seconds from liftoff. This is your final warning. If you don’t wish to continue, press Stop IMMEDIATELY.”

She closed her eyes. “Twenty seconds…Fifteen…Ten. Nine. Eight. Seven. Six. Five. Four. Three. Ignition.” The engines surged to life, the capsule shuddered, and her pulse hit warp speed. “Two. One. Liftoff.”

Grant yelled, “Whoo-hoo! What a ride!” as the rocket accelerated. The G-forces they’d been told to expect pinned Abby into her seat like an invisible giant hand. On cue the system chirped, “Your flight status is normal. Your altitude is 34,000 feet,” and she began to relax. Her dad had told her that the liftoff and landing were always the riskiest phases of flight, and the first of those danger points had passed.

“This isn’t as bad as I thought,” Grant croaked, straining to get the words out through the Gs. “You okay?”

“I’m fine,” Abby said as the system chimed in, “We have a successful engine cutoff,” followed by, “We have successful separation of the booster.” Finally, in an extra-sprightly tone, came the words they were waiting for. “Welcome to space. You may now move about and enjoy your StarMagic experience.”

*****

As their curated romantic playlist came out of the speakers, Abby unbuckled, cautiously pushed off the couch, and in pure delight floated toward the nose of the capsule. Her worries forgotten, she spun and tumbled around the cabin, feeling deliciously free.

“This view is fantastic!” Grant called from a window. Joining him, she gasped at the deep blue oceans and the swirling clouds ranging across the continents. “Look, we’re already over Africa,” she said. “I’m so glad we did this. I could stay up here forever.”

“Hey, we’re just getting started,” Grant said. He was looking at her the way he used to when they were dating and couldn’t wait to get home. She reached for the zipper of his flight suit and they undressed each other, his hands quicker than hers but his touch gentle and deliberate. She drew him close and their bodies came together, rolling in ecstasy across the sky.

Wrapping his big hands around Abby’s waist, Grant pulled her onto him and effortlessly pushed her upward, down, and back, again and again. Her breathing quickened as the rhythm intensified, until he started thrusting too forcefully, not letting up when she softly said, “Hey, easy.” Then, still gripping her side with one hand, he reached around with the other and smacked her bottom hard. She recoiled but he yanked her back and walloped her again, his eyes gleaming.

So furious she could hardly see straight, Abby shoved Grant’s chest, sending them careening to opposite sides of the cabin. “You know I hate that!” she shouted. “What is wrong with you?”

Looking thunderstruck, Grant grabbed a handhold on the wall, his wilted erection wobbling in zero-g like a week-old banana. “I’m sorry,” he said, sounding more upset than apologetic. “I just thought we could get a little crazy for a change, you know, really hot.”

“It wasn’t hot for me,” Abby snapped. “It’s always, always about you, damn it. Even here.”

“I said I was sorry, Ab. Let’s try again, okay?” he said, moving closer.

She glared. “Forget it. It’s like you’re blind and deaf.” She backed away, suddenly self-conscious about being naked before the universe. The clock in the console told her they had 46 minutes left before the craft began its descent.

“I promise, I promise I’ll go easy,” Grant said, almost begging. “We can still have some fun.”

“Have to get your money’s worth?” she shot back. “Well, I’m not a whore.”

“Abby, come on. You—”

“I wish I could land this thing right now!” The words seemed to propel him across the room. His shoulder banged the thick window and he yelped in pain, then shrank against the glass, his butt visible for all the cosmos to see. Abby collected her clothes and dressed in the toilet compartment. “Don’t touch me,” she said when she came out. “Don’t even think about it. Just let me enjoy the view if I can.”

While Grant sulked in his seat, Abby took pictures until their $80,000 hour was up. The G-force on reentry was stronger than on launch, and would have made talking impossible if they’d had anything to say. Her nerves tightened again as they plunged through the upper atmosphere but the parachutes opened beautifully, and the Atlantic was still calm when they splashed down. They still hadn’t spoken when Viviana welcomed them aboard the helicopter with, “How was it?”

Abby replied, “It was unbelievable.”

*****

Abby’s father didn’t look up when she set a folding chair next to his recliner. “Hey, Dad, how are you?” she said, silently cheering when a flash of recognition appeared in his warm blue eyes.

“Hello, Abigail,” he said. “I haven’t seen you for a while.” She didn’t remind him she came at least twice a week. Instead, looking out the window at the lilies and azaleas in the yard, she said, “It’s a lovely day, isn’t it? The flowers are beautiful.”

“Your mother put them in last month. She needs to water them.”

“I’m sure she will.” Her mom had died four years earlier. “I have some big news. Are you ready?” His eyebrows lifted. “I went into space.”

“Into…into space? How—how?”

“Grant and I took one of these new tours. You go up on a rocket and make one orbit and splash down. We were weightless and looked at the earth and had a wonderful time.”

For a moment she thought he understood, then saw confusion and fear creeping over his face. After several seconds he asked anxiously, “Who’s—who is Grant?”

“My husband,” Abby said. Her heart had just been shattered, but her voice stayed level and her smile was as big as before.

“Oh, yes, yes, of course,” Dad said. “That’s, that’s wonderful. I used to work in space myself.”

“I remember. And I brought you a souvenir.” She took a jewelry box from her bag and handed him a gleaming silver medallion. One side showed a capsule against a background of stars; the other was engraved this certifies that Abby paulson-connor traveled into space on may 21, 2035 aboard a StarMagic rocket and completed one orbit of earth.

He stared, turning it over in his hands until Abby put it back in the box. “I’ll leave it right here in your desk.”

“You mean you’re—it’s for me?”

“It sure is. After all, you got me interested in space.” She got up and hugged him, saying, “I have to go but I’ll be back soon,” and turning away quickly so he couldn’t see her tears. Before she left the house, the caregiver confirmed what she already knew: the new meds that had briefly stabilized his memory weren’t working any more.

Outside on the porch, her phone chimed with Miss u so bad please come home. Shaking her head and jabbing at the buttons, she replied CALL ME DON’T TEXT. When she joined the video chat, Grant looked so pathetic that she almost felt sorry for him, bleary-eyed and unshaven, his forehead lined with worry. Before she could speak he blurted, “Abby, I love you. I’m sorry about everything. I’ll do whatever you want.”

“Is that right?” she said dryly. “You could’ve started by listening when I said I need time. It hasn’t even been a week.”

“God, Ab, I—I don’t know what to think. Except I wish I’d never put us on that rocket.”

Abby rolled her eyes. “You still don’t get it. It’s not just the flight. I love you too but if we’re ever going to be a family, we have a lot of work to do first. Do…you…understand?”

He nodded unhappily. “I’ll let you know when I’m ready.” Seeing his hopeful expression, she added, “Don’t ask me for a schedule. Goodbye for now.”

Depressed and suddenly tired, she sat on the steps, savoring the caress of the evening air and looking wistfully at the twilight sky. As stars appeared and a luminous crescent moon hung over the trees, Abby decided this view was immeasurably better than the one from StarMagic.

She knew that even though her trip turned out badly, the child she wanted—with or without Grant—would grow up in a world of journeys yet to be charted. Someday her daughter might call her from the Martian desert or send her a close-up video of the rings of Saturn. If any of this came to pass, Abby would be overjoyed. But her feet would stay right here on the good Earth.

Dave Swan last appeared in Adelaide in November 2022 with the story, “Now You Never Call Me Anymore.” His work has also been published in Litro Magazine, the Fictional Café, the Dead Mule School of Southern Literature, and elsewhere. A former journalist and a lifelong writer, he’s a member of the Atlanta Writers Club and helps manage their social media.