Page 37 of Starlight & Dark Nights

“How’s Jude?” Bill asks when the conversation falters. “She doing alright?” It’s not meant as a barb, or as a tit-for-tat where Vance questioned Bill’s mental health so he questions Vance’s wife’s, but it could easily be taken that way.

Vance leans a shoulder against the wall as two engineers pass by, deep in conversation, heads leaned in to one another. The two men walk on and Vance’s attention turns back to Bill.

“She’s actually doing pretty well. Thanks for asking.”

It’s clear that everyone knows the gist of Jude’s pool accident, though no one discusses it. Bill has, perhaps, a closer view of the situation, as Jo is always going on about her worries for Jude, and how she wishes she wouldn’t drink so much. They’d also had Vance and Jude’s daughters stay overnight during the hospital stay, so Bill feels as though he’s close enough to the Majors to inquire.

“Jo really likes Jude,” Bill offers. “She’s always saying how much she enjoys spending time with her, and how our youngest daughter loves your girls.”

It’s enough to set Vance at ease, and he visibly relaxes even though the topic on the table is his wife, and, indirectly, her alcohol problem.

“Thank you,” Vance says, lowering his voice. “It’s been a big adjustment, being here. Jude is a loner by nature, and while she loves our girls, I worry that she doesn’t get out enough and talk to other women. I recently encouraged her to track down an old friend from California, and she’s been trying to hold her drink better.” Vance pauses and runs a hand over his hair; he looks like he might have just said more than he wanted to. “Anyway, she’s trying to find her footing.”

Bill feels sympathy for the man, regardless of whatever professional jealousies might exist between them. “I hear you,” Bill says. “When the wife is unhappy, it makes the whole family unhappy, doesn't it?”

Vance gives a sad laugh. “Yeah. It does drag the home life down a bit.” He pauses. “Jo’s always so upbeat, and she has so much going on. Jude really admires her drive.”

Bill feels a wash of pride at hearing these words. He himself needs to be better at encouraging and complimenting his wife for all of the things she does, but it feels damn good to hear someone else do it. Especially another man. A base and simple part of Bill feels something akin to joy over finding himself a wife who is a good mother, a good homemaker, and who impresses the people around them. Her looking good makeshimlook good, and while that’s a silly way to simplify Jo, it’s true. She might have written a whole story about things he would have rather she’d kept to herself, but Jo is no dummy, and she’s no slouch in the woman department. She gets the job done.

“We’d love to have you guys over for dinner—how about Friday? Just our two families,” Bill stresses. He isn’t even sure what prompted him to extend the invitation, but it feels right. And he’s sure Jo will be fine with it.

A big smile stretches across Vance’s face as he nods slowly. “Yeah,” he says, warming to the idea. “That would be incredible. We’d love that.”

The men part ways, and Bill feels satisfied that he’s extended an olive branch to Vance in a multitude of ways. He wants to let the man know that he forgives him for his underhanded way of reporting Bill to Arvin North the previous summer, but he also wants him to understand that astronaut families are like military families: they stick together. When one man—or his wife—is suffering, they all are. He feels like Jo will be proud of him, and he whistles to himself as he walks the halls, thinking about the barbecue they might have on Friday, or the meal Jo will prepare for them to sit down and enjoy.

He rounds a corner at the end of the hallway in this thoughtful state, and runs smack into Jeanie Florence. She’s holding an armful of files and they scatter, papers fluttering to the floor like dandelions.

“Oh!” Jeanie says, watching the mess with dismay. “Dammit.”

Bill is contrite. “I’m so sorry,” he says, sinking to his knees beside her. “I wasn’t paying attention, Jeanie. This is my fault.”

She doesn’t agree or disagree, just starts gathering papers and file folders as people walk by, stepping over the mess and glancing back with pity.

Bill carefully stacks papers and tries to keep his eyes from straying to the décolletage that’s visible as Jeanie bends forward. She’s wearing a pretty pale green dress with a v-neck, and a gold medallion necklace swings gently as she moves around on her knees, collecting her lost work. When she glances his way, Bill is, in fact, looking at her lightly freckled cleavage. He pulls his eyes away quickly.

“I like your necklace,” he says, hoping that will cover for the way he’s been caught admiring her womanly features. “Is it new?”

Jeanie sits back on her heels and takes the pendant between her fingers. “It was my mother’s, but she gave it to me when I graduated from college,” she says. “I’d always admired it as a little girl, and she said I was finally old enough and responsible enough to wear real gold.” This makes Jeanie crack a smile—a real one—and let go of the medallion. “But you know what?When she gave it to me, I finally did feel old enough and responsible enough.”

Bill sits back on his heels and looks at her; he’s missed chatting with Jeanie so much, and even though they’d talked that day outside on their break, they’ve had very little interaction since, and every time Bill catches a glimpse of her he thinks of her words:What I don’t want is someone else’s husband…

At this point, that’s all Bill will ever be: someone else’s husband. First he was Margaret’s husband, and then he was the man who left her. Next he became Jo’s husband—and someone’s father—and now he feels marked by this. Used up. Undesirable. No younger woman will ever look at him again and think about a future with him, of a series of firsts. And it isn’t that he desires that, necessarily; Bill does not hit The Black Hole and check out the young ladies gathered there. He does not hope and pray that one will approach him and try to get him to buy their drinks. He does not enjoy flirtation as sport. Bill, by nature, is a serious man with serious thoughts, but when it comes right down to it, he is still a man. And a man wants to feel that—at least on some level—he is still desired by beautiful women.

“Well, it’s lovely,” Bill says, shuffling the papers and handing them back to Jeanie with a look of apology. “I’m sorry we had to meet this way, but I’m always glad to run into you.” They both laugh at this. “Okay, not literally,” Bill says, holding up a hand.

Jeanie looks as though she wants to say something more but is struggling with it. She bites her lip and stands, holding the mess of papers and files that she will undoubtedly spend the afternoon re-sorting. “Hey,” she says, tucking her straight, brown hair behind one ear. “I was going to stop at The Black Hole for a drink today. Buy you one?” She glances around and lowers her voice. “As friends?”

Bill can’t help it, though he desperately wishes that he could: his heart leaps in response. “I should be buyingyoua drink to say sorry for ruining your work.” He motions at the mess in her arms.

“That’s fair,” Jeanie says with a smile. “I’d let you buy me one. As friends.”

Bill’s heart slows to its normal pace. “As friends,” he confirms.

Jeanie holds everything tightly to her chest and looks at the toes of her shoes before glancing back at Bill’s face. “See you there.”

* * *

The Black Hole is packed that day after work. It's a sunny evening, and there is a group of Air Force pilots in town to tour NASA and to have a conference in Stardust Beach. Their mere presence in town has brought out the Cape Cookies in full force, and the ladies who enjoy seeing men in uniform and aviator sunglasses are all there, faces made up, bodies--both lithe and curvaceous--bedecked in soft, pretty dresses in a rainbow of colors. Their laughter tinkles in the air, giving the evening a hint of promise.

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