Page 51 of Across the Universe

"You won’tallowus to go?" Jeanie nearly chokes on her own words. "Why not?"

Harvey is ready to put the nail in the coffin of this discussion, and he leans back in his chair as he does so. "Because," he says expansively, as if this will end the debate. "Who would keep the men in check? And who would watch the children?"

Jeanie cannot believe that Vicki would set her up with a dullard like Harvey Miller. Sure, she's pushing thirty and single, and sure, Vicki knows that she's trying to get out more and to forget all about Bill Booker, but in no way should she give off a vibe of desperation that's strong enough to reel in a non-catch like this guy. She pushes her lobster bisque aside and stands up just as the waiter approaches with their grilled grouper.

"I don't think I'm hungry anymore," Jeanie says with a tight smile. She drops her napkin on the table. "Thank you for inviting me out, but this isn't going anywhere."

Harvey's mouth is hanging open, and Jeanie can see the gold fillings in his back molars. She hasn't gotten close enough to him to experience it firsthand, but she'd be more than willing to bet that Mr. Miller here has coffee breath and a darting, probing tongue--not that she would ever let this dolt kiss her goodnight.

Without waiting for their main courses to be delivered, Jeanie grabs her purse and walks out of the restaurant, letting the heat of the mid-July evening hit her in the face. She lifts her chin high as she walks to her car, hair streaming out behind her.

She might not be the right woman at the right time for a guy like Bill, but she is most certainly not going to lower her standards in order to be the right woman atanytime for a man like Harvey Miller.

Jeanie drives home with the windows down, drumming her thumbs against the steering wheel as her favorite song of the summer so far, "Summer in the City" by The Lovin' Spoonful, plays at top volume from her car radio.

CHAPTER19

Bill

Runningand pushing himself physically becomes Bill's outlet. By the middle of August, he's grown accustomed to running at night, the still-hot air filling his burning lungs as he pushes himself: two miles, three miles, four, then five. The sit-ups in the front lawn afterward are endless, and he counts them out, surpassing his first goal of one hundred and then doubling it.

"You're wearing yourself out," Jo says as she folds laundry quietly on the couch. Bill has come in, drenched from head to toe in the kind of sweat that comes from working out in the equivalent of a sauna with a side of extra humidity just for good measure. "This can't be good for you, Bill."

Ever since they'd seen Dr. Sheinbaum together, Jo has been looking at him like he's a puzzle that she's trying--unsuccessfully--to piece together.

Bill grabs a bathroom hand towel from Jo's careful stack on the coffee table. He mops his forehead and wipes the back of his neck, still panting slightly from the exertion of running and doing sit-ups.

"It has to be good for me, and it needs to be done. Space is grueling, Jojo. Being in a capsule and holding up under the incredible pressure of the whole thing will require me to be in top form."

Jo snaps a large bath towel in the air with a crisp flip of her wrists, looking at him dubiously as she folds it in half and then in fourths. "You already are in good shape, Bill. For a man of thirty-seven, you're pretty fit."

Bill walks into the kitchen, pours a glass of water from the tap, and comes back to where Jo stands, the piles of laundry stacked up all over the table and couch like little buildings forming a city of clothes.

Bill gives a laugh. "Well, 'pretty fit' isn't gonna cut it here. I need to be better than all the other guys, and unfortunately, they're all younger than I am."

Jo walks around the table, gathering kitchen towels and walking them in to place them in the drawer where they belong. "Well, I think running like this is just another way to shut out everything else. It can be just as addictive as alcohol or any other thing you can get hooked on," she calls over her shoulder.

Bill tries not to roll his eyes at her concern; after all, Jo loves him. She cares. He just doesn't need to be mothered right now. What he needs is for her to stay the course. He needs his wife to hold down everything on the home front while he works himself to the bone, trying to get selected for the ultimate mission. The one that's coming up in two weeks is just a stepping stone to the moon, but he wants to perform at his very best and make sure that he upholds his end of the bargain that he's made with NASA, which is to give his all.

"Honey." Bill chooses his words carefully here. "I did a lot of work with Dr. Sheinbaum and identified some of my big weaknesses. I'm committed to continuing the work on myself, and I know my limitations better than anyone. Let me do what I need to do in order to be what I need to be at work, okay?"

Jo comes back into the living room empty-handed, having delivered the kitchen towels. She sighs. "Okay, Bill. I guess you know yourself best. But I see you and I worry. The kids are even worried." She folds her bare arms across her chest. Jo is wearing a thin nightgown that loosely skims her body, and Bill can't help but let his eyes graze over his wife's womanly curves. He'd like to set the water down and pull her close, but his running clothes are still stuck to his skin with sweat, and he can smell his own body odor.

Instead, he drinks the entire glass of water in one long pull and then looks her in the eye. "I love you. I love all of you," he says earnestly. "Now, I'm going to go and shower, and when I get out, I'm hoping that I find my wife waiting in bed for me." A slow smile spreads across his face, and he hopes that it's enough to disarm her. He drops his voice. "The kids are asleep, right?"

Jo can never help herself when he flirts with her like this, and she giggles like a shy, young girl, and not the woman he's been married to for the past decade and a half. "Oh, Bill," she whispers, though she’s secretly thrilled at the bold look of desire in his eyes.

Bill wiggles his eyebrows at her. "Is that a yes? Let me show you the physique I've been working so hard on every night out there in the heat."

"Bill!" Jo says again, sounding scandalized.

But he knows her, and he knows that when he steps out of the shower, she'll be waiting for him between the sheets, her sheer nightgown draped across the chair in the corner of the room.

Bill also knows that he can't do this forever; he's not going to be able to skirt around their lack of communication, the fact that Jo still wants to go to therapy together, his responsibilities as a father, and his feelings about himself, simply by running five miles and then taking his wife to bed instead of talking to her. But for now, it's going to have to be enough. He's got a mission coming up, and he needs to stay focused.

Right now, Bill has to keep his game face on, and his emotions collected.

He steps into the hot shower and turns off his thoughts.

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