10. Bill
CHAPTER 10
Bill
"And was it productive?"
"In what way?"
"Was spending time with your youngest daughter productive in the sense that you felt you were building an emotional connection with her?" Dr. Sheinbaum elaborates. She's sitting in her chair across from Bill once again, watching his face with an intensity that feels stronger than usual. "Did she respond to your attention positively?"
Bill isn't sure what else to say other than, "Yes, of course." What child wouldn't respond positively to the undivided attention of her father? Particularly when the activity at hand is something fun, like gathering shells at the beach.
"Tell me about it." Dr. Sheinbaum has her ever-present notepad and pencil resting on her lap as she listens.
Bill scratches the stubble on his jaw roughly. This meeting with Dr. Sheinbaum is at the end of his workday, and he's come straight from Cape Kennedy, loosening his tie on the way there. "Well, on Saturday, we woke up and Jo made us pancakes. My son, Jimmy, had a baseball game, so he left early with a friend to toss a ball around. My middle child, Nancy, wanted to go to the library, so Jo agreed to take her, and I asked Kate if she'd like to go to the beach and gather some shells with me. She was more than happy to do that, so we drove right up to the sand on Stardust Beach and parked there. I brought buckets and Kate brought us each an orange for a snack."
"Mmm," Dr. Sheinbaum says, nodding encouragingly. "Her active participation in the activity is important. Go on."
Bill was charmed by Kate's enthusiasm for the shell-gathering, and after he'd unlocked the trunk, letting her gather their buckets and plastic shovels, she'd raced ahead of him, running to the water's edge.
"We took off our shoes and walked in the sand," Bill says, remembering the way the sun had touched her blonde head as she'd bent and dug in the soft sand, unearthing whole and partial shells. "At first Kate would just quietly gather her shells in a bucket, but then she showed me the ones she thought were more important. Prettier. Better formed."
"And did she talk about anything else as you gathered shells?"
"I asked her how school was going, and she said she was doing fine."
"What's her favorite subject at school?"
"Am I being tested on my fitness as a parent?" Bill bristles. He sees the way Dr. Sheinbaum's eyes flutter in response to his sharp tone, and he backs off. "Sorry, I still feel a little defensive sometimes when you ask questions--like you're grilling me to see what I know about my own children."
"It's not a test, Bill. It's a conversation. I'm curious to know more about your children as people." Dr. Sheinbaum's tone is mild. She smiles at him gently.
"Right." Bill clears his throat. "Well, her favorite subject is science, and she says she wants to be an astronaut like me."
Dr. Sheinbaum's eyes light up. "That's wonderful. We need more women in science. How does it make you feel?"
"That she wants to follow in my footsteps? Wonderful. The idea of her trying to compete in a man's world? Terrified." He's being brutally honest here, so he doesn't hold back. "I think her life would be easier if she fell into the roles that society expects of her. Being a wife and mother aren't bad gigs, right?"
Dr. Sheinbaum tilts her head ever so slightly, reminding Bill with the flick of an eyebrow that she is neither of those things.
"Right, sorry," Bill says, holding up a hand. "With all due respect, I would assume that being a woman who bucks tradition and societal expectations is hard. And sometimes more than that--potentially really challenging?"
Dr. Sheinbaum holds the sharpened pencil between her fingers and she lifts that hand from the notepad in her lap, tipping it back and forth like a teeter-totter. "It's a mixed bag," she admits. "As a woman trying to do something that is normally the domain of men, you do run into some massive roadblocks and resistance. But it's not without its rewards."
"Of course," Bill agrees quickly. "There is a lot of dignity and satisfaction in following your dreams."
"And yet you'd like your own daughter's dreams to fit more neatly into the prescribed box, rather than bleeding outside the lines?"
Bill inhales loudly through his nostrils. "Maybe?" he admits.
"And in your work life, do you encounter many women who are attempting to break down the barriers for themselves?"
An image of Jeanie instantly pops into Bill's mind. "Sure. There are women engineers at NASA."
There must be something in Bill's reaction—something written on his face, or maybe in the inflection of his voice--because Dr. Sheinbaum looks at him quizzically.
"Anyone in particular who you have gotten to know well? Perhaps someone who you could see your daughter becoming?"
The comparison between Jeanie and Kate makes Bill mildly uncomfortable. "Perhaps," he allows gruffly. "I know someone who I quite admire."
"What does she do?"
"She's an engineer in our department and her name is Jeanie Florence," he says, instantly falling prey to the desire to speak the name of someone who occupies space in your head or heart. "She's in her late twenties, very bright, and she herself has designs on someday reaching the moon."
"She sounds very ambitious."
Bill senses danger here; there is a hanging edge--a cliff--in Dr. Sheinbaum's approach to this topic, and he feels perilously close to falling off it.
"I believe she is ambitious, yes."
"Do you spend much time with Miss Florence? I’m assuming she's not married, and that's wrong of me; some women really can have it all, so that's an unfair presumption on my part."
"She's not married," Bill confirms. Once again, he's got his toes hanging over a cliff and he can see the canyon below. "And we have lunch together occasionally," he says, neglecting to mention that the lunches they share are spent outside alone, talking against the wall of a building. "Jeanie sometimes joins the rest of the crew at The Black Hole after work for a beer. The Black Hole is a bar nearby--"
"I know what The Black Hole is," Dr. Sheinbaum interrupts. "I've been there."
The image of Dr. Sheinbaum sitting in the open-air bar, nursing a beer amongst the young pilots and NASA crew members while single men and women sway on the tiny dance floor to "Try Me" by James Brown doesn't quite jibe.
"Really?" Bill can't hold back a chuckle. "I never pictured that."
It's Dr. Sheinbaum's turn to laugh. "Sure. I have a life outside of my office, Bill. Just like you do. Do you picture me like your teachers when you were a kid, sleeping under my desk and just brushing my teeth in the bathroom sink before my first client arrives?"
Bill smiles wryly.
"I'm kidding," Dr. Sheinbaum says. "Don't answer that." She waves a hand between them. "But back to my initial question: you spend time with Miss Florence outside of work?"
"I have, yes," Bill says, feeling like he's on the stand being interrogated on cross-examination. “But generally in groups. And not recently."
Dr. Sheinbaum takes a deep breath. "I feel defensiveness from you on this topic. Am I wrong about that?"
"Can you elaborate?" Bill asks, trying to buy time.
"Well, defensive in the sense that I've hit a nerve. I'll be direct: is there anything at all going on between you and Jeanie?"
“Of course not,” Bill says too quickly. “She’s a respected colleague.”
“I see.”
Dr. Sheinbaum leaves a silence between them that Bill is determined not to fill, but after nearly a minute of silence, he can’t take it anymore.
“Look, have we had discussions on our own? Yes. Is there anything about the woman that I find attractive?” Bill pretends to consider this for the first time. “Sure. Yeah. Jeanie is a lovely young woman with a brilliant mind and a great personality.” Dr. Sheinbaum’s eyebrows hitch up a millimeter with each flattering word that comes out of Bill’s mouth, but that doesn’t stop him. “In another universe, if neither of us were married, we might be attracted to one another. But I’m a married man, Dr. Sheinbaum. And Jeanie is a coworker.”
Pressing her lips together as she writes on her notepad, Dr. Sheinbaum nods just slightly. “Of course, Bill.”
“What, you don’t believe me?”
Dr. Sheinbaum sets her pencil on the notepad and focuses all her attention on Bill. “Is there some reason I shouldn’t believe you?”
Bill feels maddened by the circular way that she goes about things, and his heart thumps angrily. “You think I’m lying,” he says flatly. “I’m here to talk about why I lost my temper on New Year’s Eve, and you want to talk about me having—what, a crush?—on a coworker. I feel like there’s a better way for us to use our time together, don’t you?” Bill folds his arms across his chest.
“No, I don’t.” Dr. Sheinbaum doesn’t sound sarcastic at all; if anything, she sounds sincere. “I think that talking about you, your relationships, and the way you interact with the world around you are precisely what we’re here to do, Bill. And because you’re here at the behest of your employer, talking about work-related things is highly relevant.”
She’s not wrong, though Bill is reluctant to admit it. Instead, he unfolds his arms and lets his breathing regulate along with his slowing heart rate before going on. “Okay,” he finally says. “Then ask me what you need to ask me, and I’ll try to answer as honestly as I can.”
“Fine.” Dr. Sheinbaum slides on her reading glasses, consults the notepad in her lap, and asks again: “Is there anything at all going on between you and Jeanie Florence?”
Rather than holding his firm stance that there is nothing between him and Jeanie, Bill exhales loudly, weighing the consequences of the truth. He knows logically that anything he shares with Dr. Sheinbaum will be held in doctor-patient confidentiality, but she can—and most likely will—report back to NASA with her overall impression of him. So will her taking away the impression that he’s a lying, cheating lech be the kind of thing that she can share with Arvin North and the rest of the suits? He isn’t sure, but he is and has been committed to talking to her and to making progress, so this seems like a bad time to be evasive.
“I kissed Jeanie Florence,” Bill says before he can think better of it. “I kissed her in the stairwell at NASA on the night of the Gemini fire.”
To her credit, Dr. Sheinbaum does not react. She does not blink, and her face does not change. “Okay,” she says, waiting.
“We get along,” he says, as if this is a thorough explanation for the kiss. And, in a sense, it is. “Our interests align, and when we talk, I feel like we’ve known each other for a long time. She’s young, yes, but Jeanie is smart, Dr. Sheinbaum. She’s so smart. And interesting. My god, it’s almost impossible to even imagine a conversation with most women that can veer from physics to biographies to music and back again.”
At this, Dr. Sheinbaum reacts. “Are you saying that most of the women you know are dull? Dim-witted?”
“No,” Bill says, though somewhat unconvincingly. “But their interests are more along the lines of recipes, romance novels, raising kids… I don’t know. The conversation just doesn’t spark.”
“Okay.” Dr. Sheinbaum rearranges herself in her chair and uncrosses her legs as she leans forward a bit, putting an elbow on her knee while she watches Bill. “You’re saying that, because Jeanie isn’t married with children, because she has a college degree, and has the same career goals as you, that she’s more interesting than other women. To me, that sounds like you’re describing a man.”
“Come again?” Bill rears back. “Are you calling me a… are you saying that—that… I like men ?”
Dr. Sheinbaum nearly smirks, but quickly wipes it off her face. “No. Not at all. But what I’m saying is that perhaps you find a woman who is unencumbered by the responsibilities of running a house and raising children to be more intriguing. And that the people who are most likely to fit those characteristics—being free of child-rearing duties, having time to read and engage in a college education—are generally men.”
Bill blinks. He’s still not sure what she’s saying. “Right,” he finally allows. “Jeanie is different from other women.”
Dr. Sheinbaum holds her pose, elbow on knee, chin resting on her hand as she gazes at him. “I feel like what you’re telling me is that you respect men’s pursuits more than women’s. Am I wrong?”
Bill considers this. “No. Not really. Okay, don’t get me wrong,” he clarifies, “raising kids is important. Jo is a great mother and our kids are as amazing as they are largely because of her. I can admit that. But am I interested in coupons and whether a vacuum salesman has come through town lately to offer the newest model? Heck no.”
“But how do you know that those are truly the interests of the women in your life, and not simply necessary things that they have to consider? Follow me here, Bill,” she says, sitting back in her chair and re-crossing her legs. “Pick a woman in your life aside from Jo?—“
“Okay, I’ll pick her best friend, Frankie. She’s the wife of one of my coworkers.”
“Fine. And Frankie—she has children?”
“No, not yet.”
“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 wife and a 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: ladies and 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 need not to 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."
Bill is stunned. He had no hopes of being chosen for this mission. In his mind, his assignment to Dr. Sheinbaum's roster of clients has all but benched him for the time being, so hearing his name come out of North's mouth is as shocking for him as it is for everyone else. He pauses, letting his coworkers trickle out of the conference room before he stands, alone in the long, narrow room with the empty chairs and the window that looks out at the launch pad in the distance.
"Booker." Bill turns and sees Arvin North in the doorway. "Speak with you a moment?"
"Of course, sir."
North re-enters the conference room and stands with a chair in front of him, both hands kneading the backrest as he watches Bill warily. Arvin North glances back at the doorway to assure that they're alone.
"This decision wasn't taken into consideration lightly," North says, not quite meeting Bill's eye. "I had my misgivings, given your involvement in the Gemini investigation, and also knowing that your work with the good doctor isn't yet complete." Finally, he lifts his gaze to meet Bill's. "Incidentally, how is that going?"
Bill feels his neck flush and he turns back to the window. "Fine," he says. "I've made every meeting, and done everything she's asked of me. But I suppose you probably know that."
"Good, good," North says absently. "I know your attendance is spotless, but I know nothing of what you talk about in there. As I'm sure you're aware, that's privileged information."
Bill turns back to face his boss. "How much will she tell you when I'm done?"
North shrugs. "She'll tell us only what we need to know, I suppose: how fit you are for the program, and whether you've made strides with your… personal stuff."
The use of this phrase rankles Bill and he runs a hand over his short hair. "But that's just it: if these things are my personal stuff , then why am I being forced to go over them in order to remain in good standing at work?"
North frowns at him, giving Bill a disbelieving look. "Because, Booker. Your personal life is infiltrating your work life, and that's not going to cut it here. I've seen your temper, I'm aware of some of your heavier baggage, and I'm hearing disconcerting things about your extracurriculars here at the Cape." He looks at Bill pointedly. "And all of those things are potentially detrimental to your focus and to your success here at NASA. Am I making myself clear?"
Bill coughs to fill the silence between them. He knows instinctively that Arvin North is referring to Jeanie, and that he disapproves strongly. There is a feeling between them of a disappointed headmaster confronting a wayward pupil, and Bill bows his head.
"Yes, sir," Bill says, both chagrined and mildly annoyed that word of his indiscretion has reached Arvin North. "Very clear."
But when Bill lifts his head again, the room is empty.
Arvin North has made his point, and now he's gone.