Page 30 of Across the Universe

“Okay, but she’s a wife, so presumably she does the cooking, shopping, and the lion’s share of the housework. So, assuming that, let’s look at her as a whole person: what else do you know about Frankie?”

“She runs a dance studio in town that a lot of the children attend. In fact, my daughters take classes there. And she used to be a Rockette in New York City.”

“Wow.” Dr. Sheinbaum looks momentarily impressed. “Then it’s safe to say that her entire life and her thoughts are not completely focused on clipping coupons. Frankie is a woman with interests and a rich history.”

“Sure. Of course. But Dr. Sheinbaum, I’m not saying women are one-dimensional,” Bill argues.

“Aren’t you?” She tilts her head to one side, regarding him. “You’ve summarily written off the things you consider tedious as ‘women’s work,’ have you not? The vacuuming, cooking, etcetera.”

Bill spreads his hands wide. “I guess?”

“It’s what I heard, but I’m always ready to be corrected if I’ve misunderstood.”

Bill sighs loudly. “Okay, then yes. I think housework is pretty mundane. I’ve always been more interested in going to the moon.”

“Apples and oranges, Bill.”

He’s getting exasperated. “Fine. But what does this all have to do with me kissing Jeanie?”

“I’m not sure I have a concrete answer to that, but if I were to guess, I’d say that you think you deserve a woman who challenges you. Actually,” she says, holding up a hand with the pencil poised between her first and middle fingers. “I think you feel that you deserve a wife to handle all the duties at home that don’t interest you, and you think you also deserve a mistress who entertains you on an intellectual level.”

At this, Bill can take no more. He stands up angrily, looming over her. For the slightest moment, Dr. Sheinbaum looks concerned. Not frightened, necessarily, but as though she isn’t sure what his next move might be.

Bill is not an enormous man by any means: he is about six feet tall and one-hundred-ninety pounds. He is strong, and he is in shape. He has fought in a war, he has been in scuffles with other men and boys, and he can hold his own. He would never raise his hand at a woman and would never even consider doing such a thing, and yet Dr. Sheinbaum flinches almost imperceptibly as he stands over her. This nearly breaks his heart.

Bill backs away and begins to pace the room, not looking at her. “You think I’m that selfish?” he mutters. “You think I consider myself a man who deserves both a wifeanda mistress?”

“I think you’re behaving as if you do,” she says honestly. “And I think this is a crucial point for you, Bill.”

He stops pacing near her window and looks over at Dr. Sheinbaum, keeping a safe distance between them so that he never has to see her look even the tiniest bit fearful of him again. “How so?”

“I think right here—this point, right now—is the time for you to be honest with yourself.” Dr. Sheinbaum stands and walks over to her bookshelf, which is along the wall opposite the window. She lets her fingers run along the spines and then pulls a book out from its spot. It falls open in her hands, and she skims the page, flipping once, and then again. “I have a quote here,” she says, holding the spot with her finger as she glances at Bill. “It’s Dostoyevsky. ‘Above all, don’t lie to yourself. The man who lies to himself and listens to his own lie comes to a point that he cannot distinguish the truth within him, or around him, and so loses all respect for himself and for others. And having no respect, he ceases to love.’”

Dr. Sheinbaum closes the book and holds it against her chest, still watching Bill. The words have landed on him and he’s holding them now, realizing what she’s getting at.

“Bill,” Dr. Sheinbaum says softly. There is a shaft of sunlight pouring through the window, and a million motes of dust flow through it like the tail of a comet. “This is it. This is your chance to distinguish the truth within you—whatever it may be. If you’re a man who loves two women, then don’t lie to yourself about it. You cannot afford to lose respect for yourself or those around you. You cannot cease to love.”

Bill stands there quietly by the window, eyes cast to the floor as he listens to her. He stays like that, silently, until their session is over. Without a word, Bill crosses the room and lets himself out the door quietly.

* * *

"August 31, 1966, men," Arvin North says the following morning, pacing the dark carpet of the conference room with his hands shoved into his pants pockets. He catches himself, pauses, lets his eyes flick around the table. "Pardon me:ladiesand gentlemen."

Bill can't help himself; his eyes cut a path to Jeanie's face, and she is studiously looking down at a notepad on the table in front of her. He's noticed this about her: this shyness, this almost palpable neednotto be singled out. It charms him.

"In approximately six months, we will embark upon a journey that will take us one step closer to the moon." There is hushed chatter around the room when Arvin North pauses. He holds up a finger. "As you all know, this is completely confidential information until you are told otherwise, but amongst our staff, we are in 'all systems go' mode, and therefore we need to have this date and this goal in our minds and in our hearts at all times. Put aside anything non-essential right now as we gear up for the next mission in our Gemini program, which will be the much-anticipated docking of two spacecraft."

At this, full-blown conversation breaks out, and the voices bounce and ping off the walls and ceiling tiles.

"Hold on now," North says, using his hands to mime bringing the volume down. "Obviously this was always our plan, and we have several steps to still complete before a true moon landing. But I know many of you worry that we're rushing things in response to the Soviet Union's Lunar 9 landing, and I want to assure you that we are proceeding with the utmost caution, care, and attention to detail. The explosion here was--and I know it's not something we like to remember--" North interrupts himself as he looks right at the uncomfortable faces of the engineers and astronauts in the room, "the explosion was a wake-up call for all of us. The official report came back with a finding of unavoidable, catastrophic technical failure, and while we are not legally at fault, we will take all that we learned and apply it carefully to every mission from now on."

The words ring slightly hollow for Bill; of course, by now he knows that NASA has been found nearly blameless for the explosion, but Bill has slowly accepted the fact that he will never find himself wholly blameless for not speaking up sooner and, potentially, halting that disastrous mission and saving lives.

"As you can imagine, preparations begin immediately. Our crew has been selected, and we're ready to lock in, starting now."

There is no influx in conversation, as no one wants to miss what North says next, but there is a definite shift in the room's energy as they all wait on pins and needles to hear.

"Our three-man crew will consist of Vance Majors, Todd Roman, and--" The room holds its breath collectively. "And, Bill Booker. Further information about duties and responsibilities of all support staff will follow. Meeting adjourned."

---