Page 27 of The Light Year

"You know," Jeanie says, consulting her watch. "I should probably head out myself." She stands and gathers her purse. "See you all tomorrow--at least those of us who are pushing through to Thanksgiving Day." She waves at the table and follows Bill out into the twilight.

"Ohhh," Bill says, putting both hands into his pockets as they walk beneath the swaying palm trees that line the path to The Black Hole's front steps. "I should probably walk it off for a few minutes before I drive." He glances at Jeanie nervously. "Would you want to walk a little with me?"

Jeanie shrugs, trying to look cool, but Bill can sense her nerves. "Sure," she says. "The only thing waiting at home for me is a cat and a plate of whatever Vicki has saved me for dinner. But are you sure that you don't need to rush home to... anything?" Jeanie waves a hand vaguely.

"Nope. Not just yet."

They walk quietly down to the wooden planks of the pier and stroll side by side as the rising moon reflects against the water.

After a few moments of silence, Jeanie speaks: "Do you really believe we'll get there?"

Bill's heart stops; is she asking what he thinks she's asking? Because it's a question he's not prepared to answer. His bloodpumps wildly, sending adrenaline coursing through his veins. "I hope so," Bill says throatily. "I want to, but I'm not sure how."

Jeanie looks at him, her long, brown hair hanging over one shoulder. Her eyes are soft. "If we want something bad enough, then I think it feels like it's within reach, don't you?"

"Sure," Bill says, hands still in pockets. "It feels that way. But there are obstacles, Jeanie. There are other considerations." He isn't sure how to phrase this, and he isn't even sure that he's openly admitting that he wants something he can’t—or shouldn’t—have.

"Oh, I know," Jeanie says, sounding almost breezy. "But in a situation like this, people rise to the occasion."

As the water laps against the wooden posts in the water, Bill stops walking. He frowns at the boards beneath his feet, trying to imagine what that would even look like. If he wanted to be with Jeanie, would Jo really rise to the occasion? Would he even dream of shaking up his life and his family that way? In his quiet moments, the fantasy has played itself out, without question, but even under the cloak of night and sleep and dreams, Bill knows that fantasy and reality are two wildly different things.

"It's still a lot to consider," Bill says carefully, daring to look at Jeanie. Her eyes are wide and curious, her face unbothered. "But I need you to know that I think about it."

A cloud passes over Jeanie's face. "Of course. I do, too. I would imagine that we all do." Jeanie looks out at the water as it ripples. "Getting to the moon has been the ultimate goal all along, hasn't it?"

It takes Bill a heartbeat or two to realize that this is what she's been referring to: getting to the moon. Not them making a go of it, not him leaving Jo and the kids, but them getting to the moon as an organization and as a country.

"Right," Bill says slowly. "It's been the ultimate goal--for all of us." He quickly recalibrates, feeling both relieved and alittle disappointed that Jeanie has been talking about the moon and not about them. Would he have even wanted a discussion along those lines? Could that have ever gone smoothly, been productive, and ended well?

"Anyway," Jeanie sighs and keeps walking, leaving Bill no choice but to start walking alongside her. "We still have three years, and I think we have to keep our eyes on the prize." She glances over at Bill meaningfully. "Thatprize--the moon."

It's the first time during the entire evening that she's let on that there's an uncomfortable boulder between them, and Bill isn't sure whether he should seize this opportunity or ignore it.

He stops walking again. "Jeanie," Bill says tenderly. "Can we talk? It's not about the moon."

Jeanie walks a few more feet and then stops, keeping her back to Bill. He can see from the set of her shoulders that she's prepared for whatever it is he's about to say.

Suddenly, she turns to face him, cutting off his words with a single, steely glance. "I'm seeing someone, Bill. It's new, but it feels serious."

This is not what he'd been expecting—not at all. In his mind (and certainly in his private fantasies), Bill has imagined Jeanie going home each night and pining away for him. Or, at the very least, not entertaining thoughts of other men. It's beyond ridiculous to think about such things, not only because Jeanie is a person and not an android, but because he goes home each night to Jo and the children. He certainly isn't alone, pining away for her and keeping his heart only for Jeanie Florence. He can't afford to. It isn't reasonable, and at this moment, Bill realizes it isn't reasonable for Jeanie, either.

"Wow," he says, taking an involuntary step back. "That's... I had no idea. Congratulations. Is he at NASA?"

Jeanie shakes her head and her eyes skate sideways, landing on the reflection of moonlight on water. "No," she says, looking sheepish. "He's a pilot for TWA."

This almost makes Bill laugh out loud, but it comes out as a soft, measured chuckle. "A man who reaches for the heavens--that seems right for you."

"Maybe," Jeanie admits. "Or possibly he's just right for now. I'm not sure yet."

Bill makes a noise that sounds like "Mmhmm," and pairs it with a nod. "I hear you. I guess you have to kiss a few frogs and all that." He tries for a lopsided, careless grin but misses, based on the pitying look in her eyes.

"You're not a frog, Bill," Jeanie whispers, closing the distance between them with three steps. She stops right in front of him, looking up into his eyes. There is a boat tied up about ten feet away from where they stand, and it bobs gently in the water in a motion that mimics the pitch and sway of Bill's stomach. "You're just a guy—a great one--but not the right one for me." Her eyes mist over just slightly as she looks up at him, and Bill nods, knowing she's right.

They stand there like that, listening to the creak of the boat tied to the pier, and after some time, Bill looks away from her. He'd kiss her one more time, just for good measure and for his own internal box of memories, but he knows this is wrong. He's a frog, and she's a princess, and he needs to focus on the moon and his family while she does the things that she needs to do.

With more restraint than he'd ever imagined he could have in Jeanie's presence, Bill holds out the crook of an elbow and offers it to her. "Walk you to your car, Miss Florence?"

Jeanie looks at his arm and then up at his face before looping her arm through his. "I'd like that," she says with a single nod. "I really would like that."

---