Page 35 of The Space Between

"You're going out after this? Is Mom okay with that?" Jeanie holds her purse in her lap. She sincerely doubted that at eighteen, her mother would have been thrilled with her starting her evening at nine-thirty p.m., and she'd bet dollars to donuts that Angela isn't allowed to head out with friends this late, either.

Patrick shifts gears on the steering wheel, backing out of the spot with one long, strong arm resting on the back of the seat as he turns to look behind him. "Of course," he says, shifting intodrive and pulling forward. "I'm a man, sis. I can come and go as I please."

And it's this,this right here, that infuriates Jeanie. She turns to look out the window as they drive. They’ve left the busier city streets of their suburban enclave and are now winding through less traveled roads, speeding along on their way back to the house. Jeanie glances at her brother’s profile in the darkness; he’s a young man now. He’s growing up and finding his way, and no one but her has bothered to question Patrick being allowed to come and go as he pleases—which, she might point out, is the way that he's been able to carouse and get into trouble with his friends—and by the same token, no one has bothered to sit Angela down and talk to her about what she might truly want for herself.

This bothers Jeanie.

"You know," Jeanie says, once the feelings of injustice have bubbled up inside of her to the point that they boil over. She’s worried about her siblings, but she wants them to know it all comes from a place of love. “I really hate how?—"

But she never has the chance to tell her brother and sister what she’s thinking, and she never gets to lecture her brother about the choices he's making. Furthermore, Jeanie never sees the flask that Patrick has tucked between his thighs, because what she sees instead is the stop sign that he blows through, one arm still hanging casually out the open window as he turns to look at Jeanie. Patrick never sees the giant pickup truck that has also, against all odds, barreled through the stop sign that should have given its driver pause, and so the two vehicles collide at full speed in a sharp, screeching crash of metal.

The last thing Jeanie sees as she lays in the field where she's been thrown is the blinking light of the flipped truck's turn signal, which flickers methodically in the darkness, illuminating Angela's broken and bent body as it lies just feet from Jeanie.

CHAPTER 16

Bill

The guys arein a huddle in the office, talking quietly as they hold cups of coffee or keep their hands shoved into their pockets. Their faces are serious.

“Morning, gents,” Bill says, swinging his briefcase around and setting it flat on top of his desk. “How was the weekend?”

Silence. Some eyes land on Bill, and others drift and shift in avoidance. In addition to their little group, Bob Young and Derek Trager are there, and the addition of two more men to their small unit makes it feel as though they’re swarming around Bill’s desk.

“Hey,” Todd Roman finally says, stepping away from the other men and clapping a hand on Bill’s shoulder. It seems a bit early in the morning for this kind of physical contact, and Bill startles. “We have some bad news, and we thought you should hear it from all of us.”

Bill is not a fan of bad news. He does not like it on the phone, he does not like it in person, he prefers not to receive it at his own Fourth of July barbecues, and he’s not keen on receiving it first thing on a Monday morning. But he’s also the kind of guywho faces things head on, so he inhales deeply, turns his full body to Todd, and waits.

Todd glances back at the other men before going on. “They’re restructuring the mission. We just heard.”

“What does that even mean?” Bill frowns. He knows immediately that they’re talking about the three-man mission scheduled for December—the one he’s been tapped to lead.

“We’re not sure yet,” Bob Young pipes up. “North is about to call us all into a meeting, and we wanted to walk in as a unit.”

Bill runs a hand over his freshly shaven jawline. The face of his silver watch glints under the overhead lights. “Okay,” he says simply. He has no idea what kind of news they might be getting, but he does appreciate going in to deal with it as a team.

The men file into the conference room and sit around the table, each of them thinking their own private thoughts as they wait for Arvin North to join them.

“What do you think about us bombing North Vietnam?” Jay Reed says to Derek Trager. They’re seated right across from Bill, and he glances their direction as they lean in closer to one another, carrying on their side conversation.

“Had to be done,” Trager says firmly. “A necessary response to an unprovoked attack on our Navy ships.”

“True.” Jay is nodding and about to say something else when Arvin North enters the room. He drops a file on the conference table and sits down with a sigh.

“I wanted to talk to you all about the Gemini orbital mission.” North clears his throat and rests both elbows on the arms of his chair, steepling his hands. “There has been some internal reconfiguring, and some necessary changes are being made. I know you’ll have questions, but I’m not sure I can provide the answers, and frankly, none of it really matters. Things have changed, and we go with the flow.”

Bill can feel his stomach clench and he intentionally relaxes his hands, his face, his chest. He takes deep breaths.

“Anyhow,” Arvin North says as he flips open the file. “Our new date is December 13, which is moved up from December 19. From this point forward, the Gemini orbital mission will be headed by Derek Trager.” Trager’s face changes as Bill glances his way, but Trager is a seasoned pro and he quickly wipes away any glimmer of elation. “And Trager will be assisted by Bob Young and Murphy Hendricks.” North’s eyes flick in Bill’s direction. “Booker, you’ll be our mission project lead outside the capsule.”

The meeting ends after this announcement, with different groups breaking out and huddling together all over the building as they discuss the changes in hushed tones. Bill walks directly to the lunch room and plunks a dime and a quarter in the coffee vending machine, then waits for the paper cup to fill with hot, dark liquid.

"Hey, buddy," Todd says, walking in with his own mug of coffee. "Big turn of events. You doing alright?"

Bill forces a smile that takes all the effort he can muster. He's fully aware of his own stiffness as he puts a hand into the pocket of his trousers and jingles his change, turning to look at Todd. He nods, trying to summon the words. "I'm good," he says, wondering whether it's even necessary to lie to Todd. "I'll be curious to hear what necessitated the changes, but I'm here to work as a team, and whatever we need to do to make this successful is fine by me."

The stream of coffee starts to peter out and Bill punches the button for creamer, which drips into the cup. He picks it up and holds it in one hand, still smiling woodenly at Todd.

"Sure, sure," Todd says, glancing around to make sure they're alone. "But it's still a shock to the system to have the rug pulled out from under you."

---