CONSTANTS

Every morning at seven fifteen, Dr. Elias Vale sat at the same table in the same café and ordered the same breakfast.

Two eggs.

Toast.

One slice of bacon.

Coffee.

Black.

The waitress stopped asking what he wanted years ago.

"Morning, Professor."

"Morning, Helen."

She placed the coffee in front of him before he had taken his coat off.

He thanked her, opened whatever journal or research paper he had brought with him that morning, and began reading.

There was nothing particularly exciting about Elias Vale's life.

He was a research scientist at the university a few blocks away. His work involved calculations, theories, arguments, proofs and, whenever possible, the stars.

He loved it.

People occasionally assumed that because his life was quiet, it must be empty.

It wasn't.

He was alone.

He wasn't lonely.

There was a difference.

Elias had simply learned that life functioned better with constants.

Breakfast at seven fifteen.

Administrative work at the university in the morning.

Research offices in the afternoon.

Observatory whenever the sky allowed it.

Home.

Sleep.

Repeat.

The variables belonged in his work.

There were enough of them there.

His colleagues didn't understand.

"So," Marcus asked one afternoon, leaning against Elias's desk, "when are you finally going to find someone?"

Elias continued typing.

"I wasn't aware I'd lost anyone."

Someone laughed from across the room.

"You know what he means," another researcher said.

"I do."

"You're going to wake up one morning and realize you're fifty and married to a microscope."

"I don't own a microscope."

"You know what I mean."

Elias adjusted his glasses.

"Then perhaps you should say what you mean."

That earned another round of laughter.

He didn't mind.

The conversation happened often enough that it had become another constant.

Someone would mention his being single.

Someone else would speculate about his eventual marriage to a piece of scientific equipment.

Everyone would laugh.

Then they would return to work.

There was, however, one person who seemed particularly interested in changing his situation.

Dr. Claire Morgan had worked in the department for nearly four years.

She was intelligent.

Capable.

Quite lovely.

Elias had noticed all three.

He had also noticed the way she found reasons to sit beside him during meetings even when other chairs were available.

He noticed when she stayed late on nights he stayed late.

He noticed the coffee that occasionally appeared beside his computer.

He noticed the questions about whether he had plans for the weekend.

He noticed the way she touched his arm when she laughed.

His colleagues assumed he was oblivious.

He wasn't.

He simply hadn't done anything about it.

Claire was persistent without being aggressive.

For several years, that left them in an odd orbit around one another. She moved closer. He remained where he was.

Then one evening, she changed the equation.

Elias was home working when someone knocked on his door.

He glanced at the clock.

Seven forty-two.

He wasn't expecting anyone.

The knock came again.

He removed his glasses, rubbed his eyes and walked downstairs.

When he opened the door, Claire stood on his porch holding a large basket.

She smiled.

"Hi."

Elias stared at her.

He was wearing gray sweatpants and an old university shirt. His glasses had slipped halfway down his nose, and his normally controlled black curls had apparently declared independence sometime during the evening.

"Can I help you?"

Claire laughed.

"Have you eaten?"

Elias looked at his watch.

Then toward the kitchen.

Then back at her.

"No."

"Perfect."

She stepped past him.

Elias remained at the open door for a moment.

Then he sighed, closed it, and followed her inside.

Apparently, he had a dinner guest.

Claire took over his dining room.

She unpacked containers, plates, bread, and something that smelled considerably better than anything Elias had intended to prepare for himself.

He returned to his desk while she worked.

Or tried to.

After several minutes, the smell reached him.

His nose twitched.

He looked toward the dining room.

That smelled good.

Very good.

He finished the paragraph he was reading, made a note in the margin, and closed the journal.

When he entered the dining room, Claire was placing the last dish on the table.

"What do you think?"

Elias looked at the food.

Then at her.

"It smells excellent."

"I'll take that."

He sat.

Then immediately stood again.

Claire looked at him.

Elias walked around the table and pulled out her chair.

She smiled.

"Thank you."

"Of course."

Once she was seated, he returned to his own chair.

They ate.

Claire had apparently expected conversation.

Elias ate quietly.

Eventually, she seemed to understand that his silence wasn't displeasure.

It was simply Elias.

"This is good," he said.

Her face brightened.

"You like it?"

"Very much."

"Good."

They continued eating.

When they finished, Elias leaned back.

"Are you thirsty?"

Claire smiled.

"Sure."

"I have wine."

Her eyebrows rose.

"You have wine?"

"I am capable of possessing wine."

"I didn't say you weren't."

"You sounded surprised."

"I am a little."

Elias stood.

"I have a very good bottle."

He disappeared into the kitchen and returned carrying two glasses and a bottle covered in enough dust to prove his point.

Claire laughed.

"How long have you been saving that?"

"I haven't been saving it."

"Then why haven't you drunk it?"

"I haven't had a reason to open it."

Something in the answer made her smile.

Elias opened the bottle.

He poured two glasses.

Then sat.

Claire lifted hers.

"To unexpected dinners."

Elias considered that.

"All right."

Their glasses touched.

He drank.

She watched him.

Then, unexpectedly, Elias smiled.

It was small.

Barely there.

But Claire noticed.

"I knew you could do that."

"Do what?"

"Smile."

"I smile."

"Not often."

"Perhaps you're not sufficiently funny."

She laughed.

Elias lowered his eyes toward his glass.

"You know," he said, "it's been a long time since anyone has come to see me like this."

Claire's expression softened.

"I'm glad I did."

He looked up.

"Are you?"

"Yes."

He took another sip.

"I spend most of my life looking for mysteries. I don't really have much time for this sort of thing."

Claire frowned.

"This sort of thing?"

"Dinner."

"With another person?"

"That too."

"You have time."

"Do I?"

"Of course you do. We already spend half our lives together at work. What's a little more time?"

Elias smiled again.

Claire drank.

"Besides," she said, "I've been dying to ask you more about your research."

His eyes settled on her.

"Have you?"

"Yes."

He nodded slowly.

"Well."

He placed his glass on the table.

"If you really want to see it..."

Claire sat straighter.

"I do."

Elias stood.

"Come with me."

He led her upstairs.

At the end of the hallway was a door Claire had assumed belonged to another bedroom.

Elias unlocked it.

The room beyond was enormous.

She stopped.

"Oh, my God."

The laboratory occupied nearly the entire upper floor of the house.

Bookshelves climbed the walls. Maps and celestial charts covered worktables. Equipment she recognized from the university sat beside instruments she didn't recognize at all.

At the far end of the room, enormous windows overlooked the ocean.

A telescope stood before them.

Beyond another door was a narrow stone terrace overlooking the bluff.

Claire stepped inside.

"Elias..."

He leaned against the doorframe, wineglass in hand.

"This is amazing."

"Thank you."

She looked toward the windows.

"The view..."

"I didn't create that."

She laughed.

He didn't. But he smiled.

Claire wandered through the room, touching the edges of books and examining maps.

"So everyone was right."

"About?"

"Your equipment."

She turned toward him.

"You've got things up here more advanced than some of the equipment at the university."

"Some."

"How?"

"Time."

"Money?"

"That too."

She approached the telescope.

"Can I?"

"Of course."

Claire bent toward the eyepiece.

The sky opened before her.

She inhaled.

"Wow."

Elias watched her.

He poured more wine into her glass and handed it back.

"I'm glad you're impressed."

She took it without looking away from the sky.

For the next hour, they talked.

Or rather, Claire talked and Elias listened.

She asked questions.

He answered some.

She drank.

He refilled her glass.

Eventually, the careful knot holding her hair came loose.

She laughed and pulled the pins free, letting her hair fall across her shoulders.

Elias watched.

The wine had warmed her cheeks.

She was relaxed now.

Comfortable.

Happy.

Perhaps a little drunk.

She looked through the telescope again.

"You really do this every night?"

"Most nights."

"Don't you ever get tired of looking at the same things?"

Elias tilted his head.

"They're never the same."

"They look the same."

"Only if you aren't paying attention."

Claire smiled.

"I suppose you'd know."

"I would."

She turned toward him.

For a moment, neither spoke.

Claire took another drink.

Then stepped closer.

She placed one hand against his chest.

The other rested lightly on his arm.

Elias looked down at her.

Claire smiled.

"We may be going a little fast."

He gently took her wrists.

"No."

She searched his face.

His voice was soft.

"It's going exactly the right speed."

Claire's eyes moved to his mouth.

She waited.

Elias smiled.

Then turned her toward the windows.

Claire laughed.

"What are you doing?"

"I like constellations."

She glanced back at him.

"I know."

"They're my favorite."

He guided her toward the telescope.

"Look."

Claire bent toward the eyepiece.

Elias stood behind her.

"The earliest astronomers looked at the sky and found patterns," he said. "Shapes. Animals. Heroes. Gods. They connected points of light and created something that could be remembered."

Claire smiled.

"That's unexpectedly romantic."

"Is it?"

"A little."

Elias looked at her through the reflection in the window.

Claire took another sip of wine.

He smiled.

"You would make a beautiful constellation."

She blushed.

"Dr. Vale."

"I'm serious."

She turned toward him.

For just a moment, she seemed to think he might finally kiss her.

He didn't.

Elias took the glass from her hand and placed it carefully on the table.

Downstairs, the house remained quiet.

The dining room still smelled faintly of dinner.

Two plates waited to be cleared.

Two wineglasses had left rings on the table.

The clock in the hallway ticked steadily.

Then a scream came from upstairs.

One scream.

Nothing more.

Much later, Elias came downstairs.

He cleared the table.

Washed the plates.

Dried them.

Put them away.

He wiped the table.

Returned the unopened food to its containers.

He rinsed the wineglasses and placed them upside down beside the sink.

When everything was where it belonged, he turned off the kitchen light.

Before bed, Elias went upstairs one final time.

The laboratory was quiet.

He crossed to the telescope.

Adjusted the lens.

Looked.

A cluster of stars glowed against the darkness.

It hadn't been there before.

Elias studied the arrangement.

The pattern was delicate.

Elegant.

Almost graceful.

A collection of new lights curved across the sky, their placement strangely reminiscent of a woman with her hair falling loose around her shoulders.

Elias smiled.

"Beautiful."

He recorded several observations.

Then he went to bed.

At seven fifteen the following morning, Dr. Elias Vale entered the café.

Helen looked up.

"Morning, Professor."

"Morning, Helen."

He removed his coat and sat at his usual table.

She brought his coffee.

Then his breakfast.

Two eggs.

Toast.

One slice of bacon.

Elias opened a research journal and began to read.

At eight ten, he paid his bill.

At eight fifteen, he left for the university.

Administrative work in the morning.

Research offices in the afternoon.

The observatory that evening, if the sky allowed it.

Everything exactly where it belonged.

Everything proceeding according to schedule.

Elias Vale liked constants.

There were already enough variables in the stars.

**

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