Page 4 of Across the Universe

The band starts to play “You’ve Lost that Lovin’ Feeling” by the Righteous Brothers as a mirror ball way up above the room begins to spin slowly, casting sparks of light over the men and women on the dance floor. A rainbow of reflected light passes over Jo’s cheek as Bill watches her, her hand still on Jeanie’s arm.

“Double shit,” Bill whispers, still debating which direction to go. He’s got a nearly empty whiskey glass in hand, and a third option presents itself in a flash: find the bar and get a refill. Smooth out the frayed edges of his nerves and get back to that relaxed, anticipatory feeling of New Year’s Eve. This is not the night to be worrying about whether Jo and Jeanie are about to hash things out on the dance floor, or if Ted Mackey has any say over who goes to the moon—this is the night to bid farewell to a year that has brought both challenges and rewards.

Following the death of his fellow astronauts in the Gemini orbital mission a year earlier, Bill had been certain that he would unravel. He’d kissed Jeanie the night of the accident, and his relationship with his wife has been on a mini-roller coaster ever since. It was his own fault, to be sure, but Bill had put off reading the stories that Jo had gotten published inTrue Romancemagazine, and when he finally got down to it, he’d been dismayed to find that much of her characters’ relationships and dramas far too closely mirrored his own. There’d even been a bit in the story about the main male character in a parking lot, sharing a private moment with a female coworker, and Bill, mortified and angry, realized that Jo had seen him in the same situation at The Black Hole with Jeanie. All of these thoughts equal one point for heading towards Jeanie and Jo to break up their little dance floor powwow.

But then there’d been the protests outside of NASA and the continued bad press following the accident. Bill had gotten caught in the crosshairs of that public relations nightmare, having been the one who’d tried unsuccessfully to convince Arvin North at the last minute that the Gemini mission should be pushed. The result had been the death of two astronauts, a widow going off the rails and packing up her children to join the protest movement, and months of panel interviews and investigations that had done little to quell the public’s growing unease with the danger and expense of the space program. So there’s one point for finding North and trying to peel back the layers on any work-related drama before it spirals out of control.

Bill sighs, rattling the rapidly dwindling ice cubes in his glass. The decision is easily made: he’s getting a drink first, then waiting to see which way the wind blows—that’s the only answer.

Bill spots a passing waiter with a tray and holds up a hand to get his attention. Whiskey first, then everything else.

* * *

The so-called “merchandise showcase” has grown by the time Bill steps away from the bar, where he’d bumped into a guy he’d known in the Air Force. The reunion was a surprise, and Bill is honestly thrilled at having bumped into the guy again. He’s also feeling somewhat fortified by the warmth of the drink that’s coursing through his veins, and when he looks around the ballroom, everything has changed. Ted Mackey is out of his line of vision, and neither Jo nor Jeanie are nearby.

Bill wanders back to the merchandise showcase and eyeballs the De Beers stand. Their famous slogan “A Diamond is Forever” is hanging over a table where two gorgeous women in ball gowns are draped in sparkling gems.

"Lieutenant Colonel Booker," one woman says, shooting him a thousand-watt smile. "Can I show you some of our best-selling pieces?"

Bill stops near the table, as much because he's now into his fourth (or is it fifth?) whiskey of the evening and he feels himself slowing down, as because he's truly interested in diamonds.

"Is your wife here with you this evening?" the blonde woman asks, eyeing the small Air Force pins on the lapel of Bill's tuxedo. He can feel her eyes grazing him hungrily, and he tries to ignore this; he's long grown accustomed to the way women look at a man in uniform, or even in a well-cut suit.

"She is," Bill says, setting his whiskey glass on the table. "But I seem to have misplaced her." He looks around the ballroom. He has no idea where Jo might be at that moment. Bill turns back to the De Beers representative with what he hopes is a winning smile. "Are the diamonds for us, or for our wives?"

"Well," the girl says sweetly, turning her wrist back and forth to show off a bracelet with diamonds that glitter under the overhead lights. "We have cufflinks with diamond studs for the men, but for the ladies, we offer a wide variety of stunning pieces. Do you have a special event coming up?"

Bill leans in closer to listen as the woman describes to him the carat and the wattage value of a tennis bracelet, a cocktail ring, and a statement brooch, and the giant security guards stationed on either side of the table keep their eyes on the crowd as people pass by. There must be at least a quarter of a million dollars’ worth of diamonds laying on this table, and Bill wonders how much it costs to insure this traveling gem show.

"Special event..." Bill tilts his head to one side. "Our fifteenth wedding anniversary is coming up soon."

The blonde woman brightens. "Oh!" she says, her lips forming a perfect O. "That's wonderful—congratulations!” She chooses a small velvet box with a yellow diamond on a band. "This is our canary diamond," she explains. "And it's flanked by two perfect white diamonds. The gems are nestled onto a band of gold, and I think your wife would love it."

"May I?" Bill reaches for the velvet box so he can inspect the ring more closely. There's no denying that Jo would love something this extravagant, and also that she deserves it. As he turns the box back and forth, admiring the way the light catches on the stones, he tries to imagine it on her hand. More likely, she'd keep it tucked away in her jewelry box and save it for special occasions, but Bill thinks about the way she might set it on the windowsill above the kitchen sink as she washes soapy dishes, or the way it would sparkle on her hand as she lies in bed next to Kate, reading bedtime stories by lamplight.

And she has more than earned this beautiful piece of jewelry--in ways that she doesn't even know. The mere fact that Bill has allowed himself to grow as close to Jeanie Florence as he has, and that he let himself kiss her passionately. Well, it floods him with shame. Bill is a man of his word, and he gave that word to Jo when they met at the altar fifteen years ago. He had promised to be true to her. It's of minor consolation to him that he has been true to her--mostly--because he knows many men do not willingly uphold this promise to their brides, but the fact that his heart has run away from him even a little is discomfiting; he generally has more control over himself.

"I think she would really love this one," Bill says, bending over the ring but lifting his eyes to look at the woman. "Is there any sort of deal for us if we're interested in making a purchase?" he asks, glancing at two other astronauts who are trying out golf clubs nearby. "Or are you just looking for photographs here tonight, like the rest of the vendors?"

The woman smiles and laces her hands together in front of her stomach. "We are very interested in working in collaboration with NASA," she says carefully, "and the opportunity to have the wives of one of our astronauts wearing a De Beers piece is something we would love to see. Could I give you my card and perhaps next week we could talk more about it?" She pulls a small card from a pile on the table and hands it to Bill as he passes the ring back to her. He looks at the card:Suzanne McDanielsit reads.

Bill holds it between his first and middle fingers like a cigarette. "I'll call you next week," he says, slipping the card into the breast pocket of his tuxedo as he gives her one last smile. "Thank you for your time."

Bill pats his pocket as he grabs his whiskey glass again and walks on. The night has already been long and winding, and there's still a fire burning in his belly over Ted Mackey's words, but he isn't sure yet how to extinguish it. As if on cue, Jeanie Florence materializes before him, her black-gloved hands held nervously before her as if she's saying a prayer.

"Bill," Jeanie says breathlessly. "Hi."

The excitement over the ring for Jo has been a balloon in his chest, but now it deflates rapidly as he looks at Jeanie's eager face.

"Jeanie. You look lovely," he says. "Happy New Year."

Jeanie flushes; the pearls around her neck are like droplets of cream beaded against her tanned skin. "Thank you. And to you as well. The ‘Happy New Year’ part, that is, not the bit about looking lovely. Except you do—you look nice.” Jeanie clamps her mouth shut.

"I--" Bill looks around for a place to set his drink; he wants to ask Jeanie to dance. There are no thoughts running through his head about the wisdom of doing so, all he knows is that he wants to hold this beautiful girl in his arms and sway to whatever song the band is playing, and for the moment, he doesn't even imagine that Jo might catch sight of him on the dance floor with Jeanie.

"You should go, Bill," Jeanie says, cutting him off. "Really. You should. Jo was looking for you earlier."

There is a look in Jeanie's eyes that Bill can't quite place. It might be regret, it might be wistfulness, and it's possible that it's even desire, but he doesn't have a chance to name the emotion, as Jeanie shifts her gaze to a spot on the floor to Bill's left.

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