Page 36 of The Space Between

Bill sips his coffee and nods, hoping that the action of drinking hot coffee will spare him from having to respond.

Todd goes on. "It's just, you were such a good friend to me at your house on the Fourth, giving me a pep-talk and all, and I want you to know that I'm here for you, too." Todd puts a hand on Bill's shoulder and looks into his eyes with such sincerity that Bill actually feels a bit better--even if only momentarily.

"Thanks, Todd," Bill finally says, willing his voice to stay strong and firm. "I appreciate that. I'm just processing right now, to be perfectly honest."

Todd pats Bill's shoulder and then lets his hand fall. “Okay, I’ll see you back in there.”

When Bill is alone again in the break room, he wanders over to the window, holding his paper cup of coffee. With one hand on his hip, he watches the goings on outside in the shimmering August heat. Men sweat as they whip around the black tarmac on open Jeep-type cars, stopping here and there and vanishing into the giant doors of open hangars. The sky is blue, but by afternoon, summer storms will have rolled in, as they do almost every day in August, and thunder and lightning will keep everyone inside until the lashing rain and bolts of electricity have passed.

The summer storms in Florida have become one of Bill’s favorite things about the place. Something about the way the darkness rolls in out of nowhere, taking over and changing the course of everything for an hour or two, reminds Bill of the storm that brews inside himself. He can often feel that coming, too—an electric energy that crackles under his own surface. It sends him somewhere to hunker down, to hover, to hide, to simply wait for calm skies to return.

Sipping his coffee, Bill squints out at the blacktop and swears he won’t let it happen today. No matter what Arvin North’s reasoning is for pulling him from the active lead position on thethree-man mission, he will not sink into himself and hide today. He needs to own up to whatever he might have done to make this happen.

But first, he needs to find out what that is.

“Sir? May I have a word?” Bill raps lightly on North’s door, and the man looks up from the papers on his desk, glancing at Bill from over the top of his glasses.

“Come in.” Arvin North waves him in with two fingers, still holding a sharpened pencil in his hand as he does it. “Close the door.”

Bill does as he’s told and then stands there until North nods at the chair across his desk. Bill sits, and North leans back in his own chair, watching Bill appraisingly.

“Sir. I understand that protocol and need sometimes dictate a restructuring of a mission, but I have to know if it was something I did wrong. I’ve been looking forward to heading up the Gemini orbital mission, and…I guess I just want to know if it was something I did, or if there’s anything I need to do differently.”

North stays quiet for an almost uncomfortable amount of time before taking off his glasses and rubbing his eyes. “Bill,” he finally says in his deep, rough voice as he puts the glasses back on and looks right into Bill’s eyes. “Here’s the thing. A man has a lot going on in his personal life at any given time—I know that. I even expect that. But a man who is going to head any sort of space mission, one that leaves the ground or not, needs to be fully present. Fully in his own head.” North pauses here, swiping a hand over his lower face as he considers his words carefully. “You’ve had a lot go on this past year with the ex-wife, and I’mvery sorry for your troubles.” Arvin North holds Bill’s gaze. “But I understand you may have had some real trouble processing this loss, and I want you to be able to fully get to the other side of those emotions before we put you in a high-pressure situation of any sort. Are you hearing me?”

Bill feels like someone has dropped a boulder on his chest. Of course he knew that Arvin North knew about Margaret’s death, though he’s worked hard to keep all of that away from work and even out of his mind during work hours, but he truly can’t see how it affects his ability to lead a mission. Unless…but no. There’s no way that anything he’d told Jeanie at The Black Hole had gotten back to Arvin North. No way. He can’t imagine Jeanie gossiping with any of the other guys on their team. There’s no way she would have divulged the things he’d told her in confidence. But there’s no other explanation, really.

“Sir,” Bill says, pulling himself out of the endless thought-loop he’s stuck in. “Respectfully, I have to disagree. I’ve been fully present at work, and while the death of my ex-wife was certainly a shock, it hasn’t interfered with my work here at all.”

North nods understandingly. “Booker, you’re a fine man. Someone I respect, admire, and enjoy having on the team. I do think you should possibly talk to someone professional. I have a recommendation for you, and I think if you make an appointment with this doctor, you might get something out of it.”

Bill tries not to shrink back in horror. “A doctor? You think I’ve got something going on…mentally?” Doctors who help people with mental problems are only necessary for people like Margaret, in Bill’s mind. What kind of man goes and sits down with a perfect stranger and divulges all the thoughts in his head? The very idea of it sends spasms of horror through Bill.

No way. Not happening.

Arvin North is quiet. Serious. He never looks away from Bill, which is an important move. To look away would be to indicate discomfort or disapproval. “I think we all have things going on mentally, Bill. Nothing wrong with that,” he says in a tone that’s gentler than normal. “You just have to get hold of them so that they don’t affect work and life. You know?”

No,Bill thinks.I donotknow.But he knows that he can’t defy North on this, so he nods curtly. He also knows, deep down, that Arvin North is correct: his dark moods can and do affect his work and his life, he’s just done a pretty damn good job of keeping them to himself up until now. Up until he made one of the biggest mistakes of his life and told Jeanie Florence about them.

Well, he’s not about to sit here and delve into his own problems with Arvin North. That will lead to nothing but disaster and the destruction of his career. So instead, he stands up, smooths the front of his pants with both hands, and looks right at his boss.

“Thank you, sir,” Bill says. “I appreciate your time and the advice.”

North looks at the papers on his desk and shuffles them a bit, giving Bill a moment of non-eye contact to compose himself. “I’ll get that recommendation for you. Have it put in your box by the end of the day.”

Bill says nothing more, but he nods once, then walks out the door.

CHAPTER 17

Jeanie

The humsand beeps of the machinery keeping Angela alive fill the hospital room, and Jeanie sits in a chair in the corner, staring at the unmoving body of her teenage sister beneath a stark white sheet. Her neck is stiff and her shoulder black and blue, but otherwise Jeanie was incredibly lucky: she got up and walked out of the hospital the same night as the accident. Patrick, who'd lost consciousness after hitting his head on the steering wheel and spent one night under doctor's care for observation, is now awake and stricken with guilt. He can barely be in the same room as Angela, and Jeanie has taken up the charge to sit bedside as many hours a day as the nurses and doctors will allow her to.

"Hi, honey," Melva says, entering the room quietly with her purse over one arm. She's been there almost as much as Jeanie, keeping a watchful eye over her younger daughter, but has just taken a break to speak with the doctors. Melva comes to sit next to Jeanie, and she sighs deeply.

"Where is Wendell?" Jeanie asks. She has the gut feeling that this is a conversation for which her stepfather should be in the room.

“He’ll be here soon," Melva says. Her eyes are tired and red-rimmed, and she looks like she hasn't slept in days, though it's only been about thirty-six hours since the accident.

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