16. Bill
CHAPTER 16
Bill
The guys are in a huddle in the office, talking quietly as they hold cups of coffee or keep their hands shoved into their pockets. Their faces are serious.
“Morning, gents,” Bill says, swinging his briefcase around and setting it flat on top of his desk. “How was the weekend?”
Silence. Some eyes land on Bill, and others drift and shift in avoidance. In addition to their little group, Bob Young and Derek Trager are there, and the addition of two more men to their small unit makes it feel as though they’re swarming around Bill’s desk.
“Hey,” Todd Roman finally says, stepping away from the other men and clapping a hand on Bill’s shoulder. It seems a bit early in the morning for this kind of physical contact, and Bill startles. “We have some bad news, and we thought you should hear it from all of us.”
Bill is not a fan of bad news. He does not like it on the phone, he does not like it in person, he prefers not to receive it at his own Fourth of July barbecues, and he’s not keen on receiving it first thing on a Monday morning. But he’s also the kind of guy who faces things head on, so he inhales deeply, turns his full body to Todd, and waits.
Todd glances back at the other men before going on. “They’re restructuring the mission. We just heard.”
“What does that even mean?” Bill frowns. He knows immediately that they’re talking about the three-man mission scheduled for December—the one he’s been tapped to lead.
“We’re not sure yet,” Bob Young pipes up. “North is about to call us all into a meeting, and we wanted to walk in as a unit.”
Bill runs a hand over his freshly shaven jawline. The face of his silver watch glints under the overhead lights. “Okay,” he says simply. He has no idea what kind of news they might be getting, but he does appreciate going in to deal with it as a team.
The men file into the conference room and sit around the table, each of them thinking their own private thoughts as they wait for Arvin North to join them.
“What do you think about us bombing North Vietnam?” Jay Reed says to Derek Trager. They’re seated right across from Bill, and he glances their direction as they lean in closer to one another, carrying on their side conversation.
“Had to be done,” Trager says firmly. “A necessary response to an unprovoked attack on our Navy ships.”
“True.” Jay is nodding and about to say something else when Arvin North enters the room. He drops a file on the conference table and sits down with a sigh.
“I wanted to talk to you all about the Gemini orbital mission.” North clears his throat and rests both elbows on the arms of his chair, steepling his hands. “There has been some internal reconfiguring, and some necessary changes are being made. I know you’ll have questions, but I’m not sure I can provide the answers, and frankly, none of it really matters. Things have changed, and we go with the flow.”
Bill can feel his stomach clench and he intentionally relaxes his hands, his face, his chest. He takes deep breaths.
“Anyhow,” Arvin North says as he flips open the file. “Our new date is December 13, which is moved up from December 19. From this point forward, the Gemini orbital mission will be headed by Derek Trager.” Trager’s face changes as Bill glances his way, but Trager is a seasoned pro and he quickly wipes away any glimmer of elation. “And Trager will be assisted by Bob Young and Murphy Hendricks.” North’s eyes flick in Bill’s direction. “Booker, you’ll be our mission project lead outside the capsule.”
The meeting ends after this announcement, with different groups breaking out and huddling together all over the building as they discuss the changes in hushed tones. Bill walks directly to the lunch room and plunks a dime and a quarter in the coffee vending machine, then waits for the paper cup to fill with hot, dark liquid.
"Hey, buddy," Todd says, walking in with his own mug of coffee. "Big turn of events. You doing alright?"
Bill forces a smile that takes all the effort he can muster. He's fully aware of his own stiffness as he puts a hand into the pocket of his trousers and jingles his change, turning to look at Todd. He nods, trying to summon the words. "I'm good," he says, wondering whether it's even necessary to lie to Todd. "I'll be curious to hear what necessitated the changes, but I'm here to work as a team, and whatever we need to do to make this successful is fine by me."
The stream of coffee starts to peter out and Bill punches the button for creamer, which drips into the cup. He picks it up and holds it in one hand, still smiling woodenly at Todd.
"Sure, sure," Todd says, glancing around to make sure they're alone. "But it's still a shock to the system to have the rug pulled out from under you."
Bill sips his coffee and nods, hoping that the action of drinking hot coffee will spare him from having to respond.
Todd goes on. "It's just, you were such a good friend to me at your house on the Fourth, giving me a pep-talk and all, and I want you to know that I'm here for you, too." Todd puts a hand on Bill's shoulder and looks into his eyes with such sincerity that Bill actually feels a bit better--even if only momentarily.
"Thanks, Todd," Bill finally says, willing his voice to stay strong and firm. "I appreciate that. I'm just processing right now, to be perfectly honest."
Todd pats Bill's shoulder and then lets his hand fall. “Okay, I’ll see you back in there.”
When Bill is alone again in the break room, he wanders over to the window, holding his paper cup of coffee. With one hand on his hip, he watches the goings on outside in the shimmering August heat. Men sweat as they whip around the black tarmac on open Jeep-type cars, stopping here and there and vanishing into the giant doors of open hangars. The sky is blue, but by afternoon, summer storms will have rolled in, as they do almost every day in August, and thunder and lightning will keep everyone inside until the lashing rain and bolts of electricity have passed.
The summer storms in Florida have become one of Bill’s favorite things about the place. Something about the way the darkness rolls in out of nowhere, taking over and changing the course of everything for an hour or two, reminds Bill of the storm that brews inside himself. He can often feel that coming, too—an electric energy that crackles under his own surface. It sends him somewhere to hunker down, to hover, to hide, to simply wait for calm skies to return.
Sipping his coffee, Bill squints out at the blacktop and swears he won’t let it happen today. No matter what Arvin North’s reasoning is for pulling him from the active lead position on the three-man mission, he will not sink into himself and hide today. He needs to own up to whatever he might have done to make this happen.
But first, he needs to find out what that is.
“Sir? May I have a word?” Bill raps lightly on North’s door, and the man looks up from the papers on his desk, glancing at Bill from over the top of his glasses.
“Come in.” Arvin North waves him in with two fingers, still holding a sharpened pencil in his hand as he does it. “Close the door.”
Bill does as he’s told and then stands there until North nods at the chair across his desk. Bill sits, and North leans back in his own chair, watching Bill appraisingly.
“Sir. I understand that protocol and need sometimes dictate a restructuring of a mission, but I have to know if it was something I did wrong. I’ve been looking forward to heading up the Gemini orbital mission, and…I guess I just want to know if it was something I did, or if there’s anything I need to do differently.”
North stays quiet for an almost uncomfortable amount of time before taking off his glasses and rubbing his eyes. “Bill,” he finally says in his deep, rough voice as he puts the glasses back on and looks right into Bill’s eyes. “Here’s the thing. A man has a lot going on in his personal life at any given time—I know that. I even expect that. But a man who is going to head any sort of space mission, one that leaves the ground or not, needs to be fully present. Fully in his own head.” North pauses here, swiping a hand over his lower face as he considers his words carefully. “You’ve had a lot go on this past year with the ex-wife, and I’m very sorry for your troubles.” Arvin North holds Bill’s gaze. “But I understand you may have had some real trouble processing this loss, and I want you to be able to fully get to the other side of those emotions before we put you in a high-pressure situation of any sort. Are you hearing me?”
Bill feels like someone has dropped a boulder on his chest. Of course he knew that Arvin North knew about Margaret’s death, though he’s worked hard to keep all of that away from work and even out of his mind during work hours, but he truly can’t see how it affects his ability to lead a mission. Unless…but no. There’s no way that anything he’d told Jeanie at The Black Hole had gotten back to Arvin North. No way. He can’t imagine Jeanie gossiping with any of the other guys on their team. There’s no way she would have divulged the things he’d told her in confidence. But there’s no other explanation, really.
“Sir,” Bill says, pulling himself out of the endless thought-loop he’s stuck in. “Respectfully, I have to disagree. I’ve been fully present at work, and while the death of my ex-wife was certainly a shock, it hasn’t interfered with my work here at all.”
North nods understandingly. “Booker, you’re a fine man. Someone I respect, admire, and enjoy having on the team. I do think you should possibly talk to someone professional. I have a recommendation for you, and I think if you make an appointment with this doctor, you might get something out of it.”
Bill tries not to shrink back in horror. “A doctor? You think I’ve got something going on…mentally?” Doctors who help people with mental problems are only necessary for people like Margaret, in Bill’s mind. What kind of man goes and sits down with a perfect stranger and divulges all the thoughts in his head? The very idea of it sends spasms of horror through Bill.
No way. Not happening.
Arvin North is quiet. Serious. He never looks away from Bill, which is an important move. To look away would be to indicate discomfort or disapproval. “I think we all have things going on mentally, Bill. Nothing wrong with that,” he says in a tone that’s gentler than normal. “You just have to get hold of them so that they don’t affect work and life. You know?”
No, Bill thinks. I do not know. But he knows that he can’t defy North on this, so he nods curtly. He also knows, deep down, that Arvin North is correct: his dark moods can and do affect his work and his life, he’s just done a pretty damn good job of keeping them to himself up until now. Up until he made one of the biggest mistakes of his life and told Jeanie Florence about them.
Well, he’s not about to sit here and delve into his own problems with Arvin North. That will lead to nothing but disaster and the destruction of his career. So instead, he stands up, smooths the front of his pants with both hands, and looks right at his boss.
“Thank you, sir,” Bill says. “I appreciate your time and the advice.”
North looks at the papers on his desk and shuffles them a bit, giving Bill a moment of non-eye contact to compose himself. “I’ll get that recommendation for you. Have it put in your box by the end of the day.”
Bill says nothing more, but he nods once, then walks out the door.