Page 40 of Across the Universe

“Mmm,” Jo says noncommittally. “Sure.” She bites on the inside of her cheek. “Right.”

“Well, shoot,” Vicki says, pulling herself into an upright position and out of her screen siren pose against the shopping cart. “Your husband is one of her coworkers; maybe I should be askingyouhow my roommate is! I bet he comes home with all kinds of stories about the single people on staff and how they meet up at bars and dance the evenings away. She never gives me any of the details.”

Jo feels a rising sense of panic, and though she’s surrounded by shelves of non-perishable goods in the middle of a brightly-lit grocery store, she suddenly feels as though she’s locked in a cage. Involuntarily, she takes a step back, tripping slightly on the heel of her own shoe. She catches herself by grabbing her cart with both hands. A look of concern passes over Vicki’s face.

“You okay, hon?” Vicki asks, reaching out a hand to steady Jo.

“I’m fine.” Jo pulls her cart backwards, attempting to turn it around and head the other direction. “I just realized I need to hurry up and check out here so I can get home to meet the school bus.”

“Right.” Vicki holds up a hand as if to apologize for holding Jo hostage. “I’ve been there. My son is grown now, but I had plenty of years of being an on-duty mom, so you go ahead there, Josephine. Good chatting with you.”

“You too,” Jo says hurriedly, already pushing her cart away.

“See you around, Mrs. Booker,” Vicki calls out in a way that lands on Jo like a heavy brick. Instead of turning back, Jo lifts a hand over her shoulder in farewell and then picks up her pace.

CHAPTER14

Bill

Dr. Sheinbaumnever smokes in Bill’s presence, but as he enters her office on Tuesday afternoon, she’s standing at the window with her back to him, holding a cigarette aloft as she stares out at the hot afternoon.

“Come in,” Dr. Sheinbaum says without turning around. “Don’t mind me while I finish this.”

“Not a problem,” Bill says, though for some reason, the sight of her narrow back and shoulders through her creamy silk blouse as she smokes through a crack in the opened window makes him feel a little lost. “I’ll just get situated here.”

And he does. Bill chooses to sit on the couch this time, which faces the window. He watches Eve Sheinbaum as she taps her ash out the window and admires the way she tilts her chin towards the ceiling while she blows a stream of smoke. When she’s done, she crushes her cigarette butt into a heavy amber glass ashtray, shuts the window, and turns to Bill with a smile.

“That won’t come out of your time, Bill,” she promises him. “I’ll start the clock now.”

Bill frowns at her; something is off. “Are you okay?” he asks softly. He isn’t sure that he’s fully prepared to talk her through something if she isn’t okay, but there’s no way he can sit there and not ask. “Did something happen?”

Dr. Sheinbaum gathers her skirt and sits at her desk, straightening her pile of notepads, her cup of sharpened pencils, and her desk blotter. She smiles again, though it’s clearly a put-on. “Nothing,” she assures him. “I’ve just had a rough morning.”

Bill knows what it’s like to have a rough morning, and he gives a single nod. “Understood.” He picks at the crease that Jo has ironed into the leg of his slacks. “As long as you’re okay…”

Dr. Sheinbaum sighs loudly. “I was dating someone, and he broke things off unexpectedly.” She shrugs and makes aWhat are you gonna do?face. “I’m fine, but I’m only human, you know? I try to check my own bags at the door each day when I get here, but sometimes I inadvertently carry one in with me.”

“Nice metaphor,” Bill says with a lopsided grin. “Baggage.”

“That’s what it is, right?” Dr. Sheinbaum leans back in her chair and laces her fingers together over her stomach, which Bill knows as one of her favorite poses. “We carry our baggage with us wherever we go. Some of it is light, some of it is quite heavy. Occasionally someone offers to help us carry it, and then sometimes they’ll hand it back without warning.” She pauses, letting her eyes look up at the ceiling tiles as she ponders this. “Yeah, that’s about as far as I can take that analogy without making myself gag.” Her laugh is rough and unamused. Dr. Sheinbaum unlaces her hands and holds her palms apart. “Anyway,” she says with purpose. “Let’s talk about you.”

“As you know, I was selected for a mission in August, and I’ve been in full-blown preparations for that,” Bill offers, relieved that they’re moving on to something other than her relationship drama, which he feels unprepared to hear about. “I still don’t know how I was chosen, given the circumstances. Are you sure they didn’t ask for your opinion?”

Dr. Sheinbaum gives him a closed-lipped smile. She averts her gaze. “They asked how you were progressing, and I was able to honestly say that we had made some great strides during our time together.”

“You think we have?”

“I do.” Dr. Sheinbaum looks right at Bill. “Don’t you?”

It’s a simple question, but the answer has layers. “I think we’ve talked about some things in here that I haven’t spoken about with anyone—ever.”

“And do you see that as progress?”

“I see that as… enlightening. I see it as you getting me to talk about the hard things and to see how they contribute to my sense of self.”

“Mmhmm.”

Bill takes a deep breath and then exhales. “It’s not always easy, but I leave here and I always have something different to think about. Some of the things I’ve learned about myself haven’t been things that made me feel particularly amazing, but they’ve been important.”

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