Page 9 of The Space Between

Jeanie nods and turns back to him, now that he’s a step or two behind her. “Think about it: a woman’s chance for survival alone in the wild is quite low. There’s danger everywhere, and wearen’t physically as strong as men. So what increases our chance for survival? Traveling in packs.”

“Ahhh, is this why you ladies all use the restroom in groups?”

This makes Jeanie laugh. “No,” she says, her long, straight hair swinging behind her as she shakes her head. “That’s just so we can get away and talk about the men without you hearing us.”

The rest of the morning is tinged for Bill with the leftover feeling of satisfaction from this interesting and humorous exchange with Jeanie. He goes through the motions of two meetings, a briefing, and an observation of a new piece of launch technology with her laughter still ringing in his ears.

What is it about having a friendly exchange with someone of the fairer sex that leaves such a pleasant residue behind? And Jeanie Florence in particular can change the whole trajectory of Bill’s day. She’s smart, funny, fascinating, and making her smile is like some kind of reward just for getting out of bed that morning. He realizes that he’s grown to cherish and value their work friendship, and out of nowhere, he flashes back on Jeanie and Jo meeting at Frankie’s house in the spring. Recalling this awkward interaction (well, awkward for him, anyway) sends a spasm of discomfort through Bill and his smile fades.

Jeanie—innocent, curious Jeanie—had walked over and introduced herself to Jo when Bill had frozen up and neglected to do so himself. And, in turn, his gracious wife had chatted with Jeanie and even invited her to dinner. Now, that dinner had never come to fruition and Bill is actually quite grateful for that, but seeing the two of them together next to Frankie’s swimming pool that night had made Bill sufficiently uncomfortable and had reminded him that there needed to be a separation between work and home.

“Booker,” Arvin North, the head of operations for Bill’s team at NASA, lifts a hand in the air as they walk towards one another in the hallway of the first floor. “Word with you?”

Bill gives him a crisp nod and follows North into his office. Arvin North motions at a chair for Bill to sit, and he does.

“I’d like you to head the three-man earth orbital test mission,” North says without preamble. “You, Bob Young, and Derek Trager.”

Bill is ready for this. He’s been ready for this. Being asked to lead a small mission—even a test that never leaves the ground—is a sign that he’s in consideration for one of the bigger missions. He needs to prove himself here, and he knows that he can.

“Yes, sir,” Bill says with excitement bubbling up inside of him. “I’m ready.”

“I know you are.” North looks at him over the tops of his reading glasses as he skims a file on his desk. “Wouldn’t have appointed you for this if you weren’t.”

Bill floats through the afternoon. At lunch, his head is in the clouds.

“The Senate just passed the Civil Rights Act this afternoon,” Vance Majors says to the men at their table as he pulls a bologna sandwich from a piece of waxed paper and takes a bite.

“How the hell do you know that? You got a television hidden in your desk drawer that plays the evening news at noon?” Ed Maxwell laughs.

“Nope,” Vance says, chewing a big bite. “My older brother works at theWashington Post. He calls me with any big news when it comes across the wire.”

“Hey, how do you feel about the whole thing?” Ed asks the table at large. “I heard businesses can’t discriminate against people for anything—gotta hire people no matter their color, religion, or gender.”

“We already have women here,” Todd Roman says, elbows on the table as he leans over his own sandwich to take a bite. “And they’re not so bad. They kind of brighten up the scenery.”

The other guys laugh, elbowing each other and winking as they do. Bill smiles half-heartedly at their banter, but he understands what a big deal the Civil Rights Act is. How necessary progress is, not just for their country, but for all of them as citizens.

When Bill was in high school, around the time he started dating his first wife, Margaret, he’d been friendly with a boy named Jerome. Jerome was Black and wanted nothing more than to play football at the high school and then go to college and keep playing football. And with the talent that Jerome had in just one of his pinky fingers, he could have beat out any other boy in their county for a full-ride scholarship and a starring role on the football team. He should have beat them all.

Bill and Jerome spent hours and hours throwing a football around a field together, running, practicing passes, shouting with glee, and having fun the way that carefree kids do. The fact that they couldn’t attend the same school, couldn’t go into town together cruising on a Saturday night with their respective girls, couldn’t even go to the same church—none of that bothered the boys. When there was a ball in play, nothing else mattered.

But at the end of high school, as Bill was considering marrying Margaret and joining the Air Force, essentially putting his life in order and making the kinds of plans that a young person so cavalierly makes without regard to what else fate might have in store for him, Jerome went missing. One day he and Bill had met in the field and thrown a pigskin back and forth like it was nothing, and then the next day Bill showed up and Jerome didn’t. It wasn’t long before the whole town heard through the grapevine that Jerome had been found shot in an abandoned barn that belonged to a mean old man named Mr. Sanger. No charges were ever brought, and no one made any formal accusations, but Bill had always felt that a spat between Jerome and Mr. Sanger’s grandson, Earnest, on a makeshiftfootball field one Saturday had been the event that set the wheels of vigilante justice in motion. Essentially, Jerome had knocked Earnest over, and when Earnest had railed at him using all the ugly words and names he knew, Jerome had told Earnest that the University of Arizona had already recruited him for their football team, and what did Earnest think aboutthatwhen it was Earnest who had always been crowing about playing football there?

Well, obviously Earnest didn’t take too kindly to that piece of information, nor did his grandfather, Herb Sanger, and Jerome’s life had ended in a dilapidated barn before it ever really started. Bill never forgot the way it felt to hear that a friend had died. It was shocking, it was wrong, and it was senseless.

“I think it’s a good thing,” Bill says now, setting his apple core on the table and wiping both hands on a napkin. “The world is changing, and if we play our cards right, we can change along with it.”

“Optimistic,” Vance says with an approving nod. “I like it.”

“My wife wants to take a bus to Ohio and learn how to register Black voters in Mississippi,” Jay Reed says, leaning back in his chair and lacing both hands behind his head. "I'm not sure how I feel about that."

"The part where she takes a bus to Ohio and then heads to Mississippi, or the part where she registers Black people to vote?" Todd asks as he sticks a spoon into a small container of fruit cocktail.

"The part where my wife hops a bus with a bunch of sweaty college kids and heads out on a humanitarian mission," Jay says. "I understand the purpose of the mission—and I wholeheartedly support it—but I'm not sure that I'm ready to be on my own with two kids while she's out there doing work like that."

The men all nod in sympathy. By and large, they are a group of educated, scientific men who have spent time in themilitary, fighting to make America the best, strongest country in the world. They believe in causes bigger than themselves, and it doesn't surprise Bill at all that Jay would support the cause but not necessarily his wife's desire to pack a bag and join the wagon train to Mississippi.

"That's a tough one," Bill says, chewing his sandwich thoughtfully.

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