Page 32 of The Launch

Jo had assumed that the evening would be each couple paired up against the others, but in the end, a part of her is thrilled to partner with Frankie instead of with Bill. She goes to get her rental shoes, handing over her sandals and taking the size sevens that the young girl pushes across the counter to her. The whole alley is filled with the echoing sound of falling pins, and the shouts of glee as people get strikes, spares, doubles, or turkeys ring out up and down the lanes. Everything smells like beer and stale popcorn, but it isn’t unpleasant. In fact, the change of scenery is somehow refreshing for Jo. She feels like, if she plays her cards right, she can hide out in their little group all evening and not have to think about Margaret, or about Bill’s impending trip to Arizona.

Jo slips on her shoes and walks back to their lane, where Bill is talking animatedly with Ed. He slaps Ed on the shoulder asthey laugh about something. Jo sinks into the empty chair next to Frankie and picks up her glass of beer again. This evening out with friends is a first for Bill and Jo since they’ve been in Florida, and it’s only been made possible by the fact that Carrie had met the Wilson triplets at the library in town. Paula, Vicki, and Christina Wilson are sixteen, and as soon as Carrie discovered that they were all experienced babysitters, she’d gotten their phone number and then called the other women excitedly.

Barbie and Todd have opted to sit this one out (baby Huck had passed a cold on to the older boys, and they felt like three sick kids—one just an infant—was too much to put on a teenaged sitter), so Paula, Vicki, and Christina have been split up amongst Jo’s kids, Carrie’s son and daughter, and Jude’s twins, allowing the adults to all have a night out on the town together.

“Team One,” Ed announces with mock outrage, “will be myself and Lieutenant Colonel Booker, as our ladies have jumped ship and decided to partner up against us.”

The other two couples turn to Jo and Frankie with encouraging cheers. “You can take these two old geezers for a ride,” Vance says, clapping his hands together as he nods at them. “You got this, girls.”

“Next,” Ed says. “We have Vance and Jude. Then Carrie and Jay. We’ll let our traitorous wives take the last turn,” he says, winking at Frankie to let her know that he’s playing around.

Frankie plays into this by giving her husband a sassy look as she sips her beer, but Jo sits back in her chair and stifles an eye roll. She’s not even close to being in the mood for this, and yet here they are, out on the town without kids. Jo wants to enjoy this, but she’s going to need to finish this beer and relax a little if that’s going to happen.

Someone finds the jukebox in the corner and puts on “Will You Love Me Tomorrow” by the Shirelles as Jo slings one legover the other. She looks like a woman who is in no hurry to rack up a strike.

The other couples banter and take turns sending their balls down the lane while Jo watches the people around them. In the next lane over, a busty redhead giggles every time her date rolls his ball, then she stands and holds out her hands to put on his cheeks and pull him in for a big kiss. Jo remembers feeling this way about Bill—wanting to kiss him and touch him as much as possible, regardless of where they were and who was watching. She folds her arms over her stomach and takes a few deep breaths.

It’s been ages since Jo and Bill had their first date, and she watches him now, remembering the way he picked her up at her house all those years ago.

“Hello, sir,” he’d said to Jo’s father, stepping up to the porch and offering his hand to shake. “I’m William Booker.”

Jo’s father, a man who had lived through The Great Depression on a farm in rural Minnesota, stood there in suspenders and a pair of pants that Jo’s mother had fixed on more than one occasion. “You’d like to take my daughter out?” Jo’s father, Herman White, had said, eyeing Bill warily.

“I would, sir. Josephine is a wonderful girl, and I’d like to take her into town for a movie.”

Jo, stationed inside the house with her mother, chewed on the side of her thumb nervously as she waited for her father to give his final approval. The men talked for another minute or two, and finally Herman White had acquiesced, stepping aside and motioning for Jo to come to the door.

“You two have a nice time,” he said, shooting Bill a long warning look. “And we’ll see you back here no later than ten o’clock.”

Driving away from her house that night, Jo had felt the indescribable sensation of promise bubbling inside her stomach.Little pinpricks of joy tingled up and down her spine all evening as Bill sat next to her in the theatre, and she’d smiled stupidly at the movie screen in the dark when he’d taken her hand in his.

Now, twelve years later, she watches him and wonders whetherthatJo—the young, inexperienced girl she’d been—had any clue at all what she’d been getting into. Dating a man who’d already been married, one who was three years older than her and with five years of military experience already at that point…well, she’d been out of her depth and she hadn’t even known it.

“Heyyyy!” Ed shouts, punching a fist in the air as Bill bowls a strike. The two men high-five as Carrie writes down the score. Jo slides further down in her seat, her arms still folded over her stomach. She has yet to say much of anything to anyone.

“Hey, bucko.” Frankie leans her head closer to Jo and speaks in a low voice. “I’m thinking of having a cigarette here before we take our turn. Want to join me?” Jo shakes her head. “Okay, let me rephrase that: join me outside for a cigarette.” Frankie grabs Jo by the elbow and hoists her up. “We’re headed out for a smoke,” she says to everyone else, pulling Jo along with her.

Outside, Jo leans against the wall, putting the bottom of one flat bowling shoe against the wall.

“So, what’s your damage tonight, chickadee?” Frankie says, lighting up. She takes a long drag and passes Jo the cigarette. “You and Bill on the outs?”

Jo waves the cigarette away. “Kind of. Remember how I told you about Margaret, his first wife?”

Frankie squints out at the purple evening sky as she exhales up towards the awning that hangs over the building. Behind them, they can hear the sound of cheering and of pins being knocked over through the open front door. “Of course,” Frankie says. “Yes.”

Jo sighs and waits as a young couple walks past them and into the bowling alley. “Well, now it’s not just more moneythat they need for her care at that home she’s in, but there’s something going on and he needs to make a trip out there. To Arizona.” She turns to Frankie and waits for a response.

Frankie ponders this silently as she smokes. “Hmm,” she finally says, flicking her ash onto the pavement. “Well, this is a tough one, Jo. I think he needs to do whatever he needs to do in this situation, and while you might not like it, he’s kind of being a stand-up guy by looking after her.” Frankie shrugs helplessly. “We can hate that he was married before, but we can’t hate him for being a gentleman and a caring human being. Right?”

Frankie’s eyes are on Jo as she stares up at the neon sign at the edge of the parking lot. “I guess,” Jo says like a pouty child. “I mean, yes, of course I respect him for that. I just wish he didn’t have to go out there. It’s like, we already pay every month for her care, but I can usually pretend that she doesn’t exist. And now it’s like every time I’m starting to get my feet under me in Stardust Beach, there’s a letter or a phone call about Margaret.” Jo shrugs one shoulder. “And I don’t want him to leave us here in Florida without him,” she adds in a small voice. “Wow, that sounds childish now that I’ve said it out loud.”

Frankie drops her nearly-finished cigarette and crushes it, then puts an arm around Jo’s shoulders. “Nah,” she says reassuringly, giving her friend a light shake. “Not childish. You feel what you feel, and that’s okay. But if he goes—when he goes—I’ll keep you company, okay? We’ll plan things and the days will go by fast. Promise.”

Tears prick the back of Jo’s eyes. She’s about to make a joke about her own wildly swinging emotions when the old familiar sensation of a cramp in her lower abdomen nearly doubles her over. She purses her lips and blows out a long breath. “I think I just started my period.” She laughs as she swipes away a tear.

“Well, that explains a lot.” Frankie squeezes Jo’s shoulders with a loud laugh. “Why don’t you go and do what you need to do, and I’ll bowl our round for us?”

As Jo walks through the bowling alley towards the restroom, everything suddenly looks different: the couple in the lane next to theirs seems sweet and hopeful rather than too kissy and annoying; the pitchers of beer at the various tables look frosty and appealing, not warm and flat; and Bill looks like the same handsome, earnest man she married, not a stranger who has dragged her across country and who now wants to abandon her here while flying off to see his ex-wife.

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