Page 47 of Across the Universe

“What’s going on? Is everything okay?”

Bill coughs lightly. “Actually, no. I’m at The Black Hole. Do you think you could meet me here?”

“Bill, what’s wrong?” Jeanie’s voice is soft. Pleading. “Is it work? Something at home?”

Bill pauses. “Both,” he says. “I think it’s both.”

There is silence at the other end of the line and a new song comes on the jukebox out in the bar: “Love Is Like An Itching In My Heart” by the Supremes.

Jeanie sighs audibly. He can imagine her looking at the narrow watch on her wrist. Or maybe she’s already in a robe, with her hair in pink curlers for the evening. “I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t feel like I needed to talk,” Bill says, trying not to sound like he’s begging. Which he most definitely is.

Jeanie sighs again. “Alright,” she says. “I’ll be there in thirty minutes. Sit tight. And don’t drink too much.”

Bill wants to protest that he can hold his liquor, but before he can, she hangs up the phone and he’s left holding a receiver that’s buzzing with a dial tone. He hangs up and goes back to his stool at the bar.

“Here you go, champ,” the bartender says, setting his drink on the napkin that still has a wet ring of condensation from his first drink. Bill lifts it in the air to her and then takes his first sip.

It’s actually only twenty-four minutes later when Jeanie comes through the door of the bar, her eyes scanning the scene before they finally land on Bill. Relief washes over her face, and Bill feels—just for a moment—like a little boy who has gotten lost and now his mother has found him. He waves her over.

Jeanie sets her purse on the bar and climbs up onto the stool next to Bill’s.

“Get you something, gorgeous?” the bartender asks Jeanie.

“I’ll take a G&T, please,” Jeanie says. She turns to Bill, looking just the slightest bit miffed as the colorful holiday lights that ring the bar reflect in her gleaming eyes. “Now, talk.”

Bill cups his whiskey with both hands protectively, elbows on the bar. He shrugs. “Today was rough.”

Jeanie’s impatience is palpable. “What, because you couldn’t dock the damn nose with the TDA? Who cares? Grow up.”

The bartender sets Jeanie’s G&T on the bar and she nods her thanks. Bill grunts in surprise, and it turns into a laugh.

“Did you just tell me to grow up?”

“I did,” Jeanie confirms. “You’re acting like a jackass. You couldn’t manage something in one try, so you come to a bar and drown your sorrows? Did you really drag me out of my apartment to watch you sink into a little pity party for one?”

Bill is stunned speechless for a moment. “It’s not like that… not entirely.”

“Then what is it?” Jeanie’s eyes flash, and she’s downing her drink in faster sips than Bill would have imagined.

“I needed a moment to myself to process it, and Jo just—I don’t know—she came at me, Jeanie. She demands answers when I have none to give.” It all sounds absolutely ludicrous now as it comes out of Bill’s mouth, and he’s filled with regret and embarrassment for having called Jeanie. “She stood up and looked right into my face?—“

“You mean like a wife does when her husband is acting like an oversized infant?”

Bill is gobsmacked by Jeanie’s belligerent tone. He blinks at her. “She’s not usually like that. I’m trying, Jeanie. I’m seeing a therapist, and?—“

Jeanie holds up a hand to stop him. “I know, Bill. We all know. You’re trying to get your demons under control, and I admire that. I do. But part of what you need to get under control is your own reaction to your wife. To adversity. To the world around you.”

Bill scoffs. “So, just a few things, huh? Nothing major.”

Jeanie doesn’t laugh; she looks right at him. “I’m serious. You and Jo need to figure things out, and that has nothing to do with me.”

Bill stares into his glass of whiskey; he suddenly feels like an idiot. A tired, confused, lost idiot. He nods.

“Yeah, you’re right,” Bill says softly, moving the glass around on the bar in a way that makes the remaining liquid swirl like a whirlpool. He thinks of the things that he’s always trying to escape: the small town he grew up in; a first marriage that ended badly; losing his first baby; his memories of Korea; the fear that he’s not enough in his career, as a father, in his marriage to Jo.

But those are all excuses—those are all fears that he lets run the show, when in truth, he’s a decorated Air Force veteran. A Lieutenant Colonel. He’s an astronaut, for God’s sake. Bill mentally shakes himself and straightens his shoulders, sitting upright.

“Thanks for coming, Jeanie,” he says to her, trying to meet her eye but instead looking at a spot just over one of her ears. “I appreciate you, your friendship, and your willingness to come to a bar and meet me when I call you.”

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