Page 5 of The Space Between

A man is driving by on a NASA vehicle that looks like a golf cart and a small tank had a baby, but when he sees them there he brakes suddenly, coming to a halt. “Got one to spare?” he asks Bill, nodding at the cigarette.

Bill steps out of the shade and into the harsh sunlight, where he taps another cigarette out of the pack, offers it to the man, and then gives him a quick light. The man takes what looks to be a grateful drag on the cigarette, exhales, and salutes Bill. “Thank you kindly. Trying to quit because the wife doesn’t like the smell of it, but it’s hard.”

“Indeed it is, soldier,” Bill says, saluting the man back. It’s clear to Jeanie that they know one another and have discussed their respective military service histories, but she isn’t sure who this guy is, or what branch he'd served in.

“Ma’am,” the man says to Jeanie with a tip of his imaginary hat. “Have a good day.” He puts his foot on the accelerator and drives on.

“So,” Bill says, stepping back into the shade. “Let’s initiate you into the club.”

“I’m not sure, Bill.” Jeanie shakes her head. “All I ever hear is how hard it is to quit. I don’t want to become asmoker,” she lowers her voice, whispering the wordsmokerlike it’s a profanity.

Bill chuckles. “You won’t,” he says. “You’re not the type. But it’s time to live a little, Jeanie Florence.” Bill hands her a cigarette of her own, showing her which end to put in her mouth, and then he lights it for her. “Inhale,” he whispers as the flame catches the end of the filter. “There you go.”

Immediately, Jeanie starts to cough. Hard. It’s disgusting. The taste is horrid, and the smoke burns her lungs. “Bill,” she says between coughs. “Why does anyone do this?”

Bill is still laughing. “Well, the nicotine relaxes you. And it’s social. Some people do it because it gives them a good excuse to leave work for a few minutes every couple of hours—hence the term ‘smoke break.’ People gather together, share a smoke and some laughs, and then get back to their work day.”

Jeanie takes a small, tentative puff and coughs again. When the fit passes, she looks Bill in the eye with a touch of mistrust. “But it’s horrible,” she says hoarsely. “Is that why you smoke?”

Bill tilts his head from side to side. “Yeah, mostly.” He narrows his eyes and looks out at the smooth, flat ground that stretches out for acres around them. In the distance are parked cars, more half-breed golf cart/tanks driven by men in aviator sunglasses and short-sleeved button up shirts, the launch pads, and, farther out, the tree line. “I smoked in Korea,” he says softly as he looks at the toe of the shoe that he drags across the pavement. “And then I quit for a while. Jo hates it.”

At the name of Bill’s wife, Jeanie gets a strange pang in her chest. She’d met Jo the night of Frankie Maxwell’s dance performance at the Cocoa Beach Performing Arts Center, and Jo had been lovely. She’d even invited Jeanie to dinner, which hasn’t happened yet, but sounds like it could be fun.

“If she hates it, then why do you do it?” Jeanie asks. When Bill roars with laughter, Jeanie’s cheeks go red. “What? Is that a dumb question?”

Bill wipes his eye roughly with a knuckle as he holds his lit cigarette in the other hand. “No, it’s not dumb. It’s just…sometimes it’s the things our spousesdon’twant us to do that we most want to.” Bill looks at the confusion on Jeanie’s face and goes on. “I don’t mean you set out to do something that your wife wouldn’t want you to do just to be unkind, but when you get married, you lose a certain sense of autonomy. Which is fine,” he adds hurriedly, putting up the hand that's holding the cigarette. “You know what you’re signing up for when you say ‘I do,’ butthere are moments when you feel like…you know, theoldme didn’t have to ask permission to have a smoke or go for a drive or stop for a beer after work.”

Jeanie nods. Her experience of marriage has only been through observation. She remembers her mom and Wendell sitting side-by-side on the couch in the evenings after dinner, him grading papers, and her reading a book. Or them seated at opposite ends of the table at dinner, listening as the kids all talked about their day. Jeanie suddenly realizes that she has no idea what sorts of concessions either of them had to make in order to have a happy and successful marriage, which, by all appearances, they did and still do. Did Wendell ever roll down the windows of his car and just keep driving after a long day of teaching middle schoolers at Elmwood Country Day? Did her mother ever sneak out at night to have a cigarette under the stars and think about the boy she’d loved and married—the one who’d gone to war and died, leaving her with a daughter and a mortgage to pay? Jeanie has no idea. It has never occurred to her to ask.

“What do you suppose Jo does to hang onto that ‘old’ version of herself?” Jeanie asks this innocently enough, but as Bill’s eyes grow serious, she realizes it’s possible that he’s never considered it.

He takes a drag on his cigarette and then flicks the ashes. “I’m not sure. She probably doesn’t have any bad habits, like smoking.” He frowns. “I guess she goes out for evening walks with Frankie Maxwell, Ed’s wife. Yeah, they do that quite a bit.”

“Maybe that’s when she smokeshercigarettes,” Jeanie says. “Either literally or metaphorically.”

Shaking his head and smiling, Bill puts his cigarette between his lips again and inhales. “You’re a smart cookie, Jeanette. And you’re right: maybe it is where she smokes her cigarettes, so to speak.” Bill drops his butt on the pavement and grinds it withthe sole of his shoe. “And you don’t need to finish that,” he says, reaching out for her cigarette and dropping it to the ground where he crushes it just as he’d done with his own. “But I’m honored to have been your first.”

Jeanie’s face gets hot again. The fact that she still blushes at her age infuriates her, and she’s sure that it makes her seem like an inexperienced and naïve little girl. “My first?”

“Smoking buddy,” Bill clarifies, putting his hands into the pockets of his pants. “I doubt we’ll be out here three times a day sharing a smoke, but hey, at least you can say you were a bad girl for a minute, and I got to see it with my own eyes.” He winks at her and pulls open the side door of the building, holding it for Jeanie so that she can go in first.

The door swings shut behind them with a click, shutting out the summer heat and encasing them once again in the air-conditioned hum of the office.

“Better get back to it,” Bill says, punching the button for the elevator this time so that they can ride it up to their floor.

They’re quiet on the ride up, but Jeanie stands there next to Bill, her shoulder just inches from his, as she thinks about Jo going out walking with Frankie Maxwell in the evenings. Jeanie needs more friends—she needs a social life. Being in Florida and working for NASA is like a dream come true, but truth be told, she's lonely. After working all day, she occasionally stops at The Black Hole with a couple of her other female coworkers and has a drink with the guys, but that's not the same thing as having friends to go to the movies or the beach with. It's not the same as getting to know people and creating meaningful relationships.

Jeanie glances up at Bill and smiles self-consciously when he looks down at her. They both gaze straight ahead at the closed doors in front of them until the elevator stops with a loud ding.

Maybe she should take Jo up on that invitation to dinner after all.

CHAPTER 2

Jo

Stardust General Hospitalis bustling with gardeners. The hospital has received a grant to improve the grounds, and the administration has used the funds to create a huge garden with lush green shrubbery, mature palm trees, beds of tropical flowers, and a fountain with a paved path around it.

"This is quite the production number," Nurse Edwina says, putting a fist on one plump hip as she looks out the window of the third floor at the workers toiling in the hot midday sun. "What do you think of this garden, Josephine?"

---