Page 45 of The Space Between

“Well, that’s novel, isn’t it?” Jeanie says indignantly. “You want a woman who can do it all and compete in a man’s world, but then you want her to come home and turn into a soft, nurturing mother-type? In what universe are there enough hours in the day for that?”

Steven’s eyes flick to Dale and they exchange a look that Jeanie registers, but doesn’t parse for meaning.

“I think Steven is just saying that some guys might like a woman who is smart and driven, but also feels the urge to have children?” It comes out like a question and Dale shrugs helplessly as he raises his eyebrows. The boys have obviously fallen down a rabbit hole and are now escorting a more-than-mildly inebriated female engineer down a dock as the sun sets.

"Maybe," Jeanie scoffs. "But I never get asked out! Not by men my age, anyway." She turns to Steven. "Your mom took me to a bar here and the only guy who talked to me was about seventy years old," she says, remembering the evening at The Hungry Pelican. "How come guys my age don't ask me out?" Jeanie looks back and forth between the two twenty-year-olds imploringly. "Am I ugly?" she asks them. "Am I?"

"No," Steven says quickly.

"No, ma'am," Dale says when Jeanie turns to him. "You're the prettiest girl I've seen on this whole trip."

Jeanie would argue with his statement, but the sincerity on his face is so sweet that it cuts through her drunkenness and touches her heart.

"Thank you, Davy," she says.

"Dale," Dale corrects her.

For some reason, this makes Jeanie break into a giggly laugh that's like champagne bubbles in her throat. "Right!" she says, slapping his bicep playfully. "Dale. I'm sorry." Jeanie grows serious again, the laughter quickly forgotten.

They walk on in silence for a bit, and then Jeanie stops, forcing Steven, whose elbow she's still hanging onto, to stop as well. Dale follows suit.

"It's just...I feel like one of those 'always the bridesmaid, never the bride' kind of girls, you know?" Steven and Dale shoot each other confused looks. "I mean, I once loved a guy--his name was Leonard Pickles, if you can believe that--and he ended up marrying my best friend. They're having their third baby together, and I'm alone. And my best friend was also the girl who tormented me so much when were kids that I could hardly take it. But that's another story." Jeanie frowns at her own jumbled thought process before picking up a different thread. "And my sister almost died last month," she says seriously, looking out at the dark water as it bobs and waves under the sky that's turning from plum to indigo.

Her eyes suddenly feel heavy, and she lets go of Steven's arm, swaying slightly as though they're standing on a boat and not a pier.

"Should we sit?" Dale suggests, putting a hand on Jeanie's lower back. He guides her to the edge of the dock, where she sinks down, legs dangling over the edge and hanging towards the water. Dale and Steven sit on either side of her, watching her closely to make sure she doesn't pitch forward and fall into the water.

"My brother was driving us and I didn't even know that he'd been drinking--oh, Lord! Look at me now, drinking here like an idiot!" Jeanie's face flames red and she puts one hand to her cheek, looking around as if someone might be watching herand taking notes on her behavior. "This is so irresponsible. I shouldn't be drinking at all."

"Hey, you're out to dinner with friends, and we're looking out for you. We'll make sure you get home safely, just as soon as my mom comes out to meet us," Steven promises her earnestly. "But please, go on. Your brother was driving."

"Yeah," Jeanie says, remembering the accident in full detail, which she hasn't really allowed herself to do for weeks. She's tried her best not to wade into the murky waters of her mind and to remember what Angela had looked like, tossed into the field, the overhead light winking at them incessantly. It's been easier to sleep and to function by forgetting the whole thing as much as she can. "We collided with a truck and my sister and I were thrown from the car. She's still not walking," Jeanie admits solemnly. "But she's still getting married. Is it wrong that it makes me jealous?"

"Of which part?" Steven asks.

"That she can't even walk, but her boyfriend is so excited to marry her that he came and proposed while she was still in the hospital. They're only eighteen."

Jeanie is making herself feel worse with every word she's saying. She really is. Of course it's terrible to be jealous of Angela, whose whole life has been flipped upside down. It's not good at all to feel anything but concern and empathy for her baby sister, and she really needs to put all of her own selfish, immature, ridiculous thoughts aside. She knows this, and yet here she is, a few drinks in and spilling her guts to two boys who probably figured that dinner out with Steven’s mom just meant a free meal and the chance to possibly meet a cute, slightly older girl. There’s no way they’d bargained for spending their evening babysitting a drunk woman whose emotions are a mess.

“Eighteen is young,” Dale agrees. “But if they’re happy…”

“They are!” Jeanie says, wiping at her nose, which has started to run. She’s now crying and there’s no way it’s anything less than ugly. “They’re happy, and so are Leonard Pickles and my best friend Carol.” Jeanie gives a shaky exhale as she tries to fight off the onslaught of tears. “Even Bill and Jo seem happy, but he does—or he did—spend a lot of time talking to me.”

Dale sounds almost afraid to ask, but he does anyway: “Who are Bill and Jo?”

“Bill is the guy I think I might be in love with.” She pauses, sobering up as the words hang in the air. “We work together.”

“At NASA?” Dale prods. “Is he an astronaut?”

“He is. And he’s married.”

Steven lets out a low whistle. “To Jo? Or maybe Josephine?”

“Yep,” Jeanie says. She nods and as she does, her head drops lower and tears fill her eyes, spilling over. A few escape and land on her bare knees. Her feet are hanging into the darkness over the water, but she can see the pale skin of her knees and thighs in the emerging moonlight, and she tugs at the hem of her light blue dress as she nods some more. “That’s right. I’m in love with a married man.”

“Seems risky,” Dale ventures. “Has his wife caught on yet?”

“Oh!” Jeanie looks up abruptly. The tears halt. “Oh, no. No no no. Jo doesn’t know anything because there’s nothing to know.”

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