“Can you email that to me?” I asked.
Pin said he could and I wrote my address on a napkin.
“So,” Pin said. “The next time BW saw the stars was in eighteen-oh-eight. He saw them twice, exactly like the first time. A single star, then an interval of a week or two and a more complex sighting. A month after that, he disappeared while riding with Nero in Stockton Wood and they were never seen again.”
Stanky hailed our waitress and asked for more pancakes for his moo shu.
“So you think the stars appeared three times?” said Andrea. “And Black William missed the third appearance on the first go-round, but not on the second?”
“That’s what Samuel thought,” said Pin.
Stanky fed Liz a bite of lemon chicken.
“You’re assuming Black William was killed by the stars, but that doesn’t make sense,” said Andrea. “For instance, why would there be a longer interval between the second and third sightings? If there was a third sighting. It’s more likely someone who knew the story killed him and blamed it on the stars.”
“Maybe Nero capped him,” said Stanky. “So he could gain his freedom.”
Pin shrugged. “I only know what I read.”
“It might be a wavefront,” I said.
On another napkin, I drew a straight line with a small bump in it, then an interval in which the line flattened out, then a bigger bump, then a longer interval and an even bigger bump.
“Like that, maybe,” I said. “Some kind of wavefront passing through Black William from God knows where. It’s always passing through town, but we get this series of bumps that make it accessible every two hundred years. Or less. Maybe the stars appeared at other times.”
“There’s no record of it,” said Pin. “And I’ve searched.”
The waitress brought Stanky’s pancakes and asked if we needed more napkins.
Andrea studied the napkin I’d drawn on. “But what about the first series of sightings? When were they?”
“Seventeen-eighty-nine,” said Pin.
“It could be an erratic cycle,” I said. “Or could be the cycle consists of two sequences close together, then a lapse of two hundred years. Don’t expect a deeper explanation. I cut class a bunch in high school physics.”
“The Holy Ghost doesn’t obey physical principles,” said Stanky pompously.
“I doubt Black William really heard the Holy Ghost,” Andrea said. “If he heard what we heard tonight. It sounded more like a door closing to me.”
“Whatever,” he said. “It’ll be cool to see what happens a month from now. Maybe Black William will return from the grave.”
“Yeah.” I crumpled the napkin and tossed it to the center of the table. “Maybe he’ll bring Doctor Doom and the Lone Ranger with him.”
Pin affected a shudder and said, “I think I’m busy that day.”
Pin sent me the picture and I emailed it to a gearhead friend, Crazy Ed, who lived in Wilkes-Barre, to see what he could make of it. Though I didn’t forget about the stars, I got slammed with business and my consideration of them and the late William Garnant had to be put on the backburner, along with Stanky’s career. Against all expectations, Liz had not fled screaming from his bed, crying Pervert, but stayed with him most nights. Except for his time in the studio, I rarely saw him, and then only when his high school fans drove by to pick up him and Liz. An apocryphal story reached my ear, insinuating that she had taken on a carload of teenage boys while Stanky watched. That, if true, explained the relationship in Stanky-esque terms, terms I could understand. I didn’t care what they did as long as he fulfilled his band duties and kept out of my hair. I landed him a gig at the Pick and Shovel in Waterford, filling in for a band that had been forced to cancel, and it went well enough that I scored him another gig at Garnant College. After a mere two performances, his reputation was building and I adjusted my timetable accordingly—I would make the college job an EP release party, push out an album soon thereafter and try to sell him to a major label. It was not the way I typically grew my acts, not commercially wise, but Stanky was not a typical act and, despite his prodigious talent, I wanted to have done with this sour-smelling chapter in my life.
Andrea, for all intents and purposes, had moved in, along with a high-energy, seven-month-old Irish Setter named Timber, and was in process of subletting her apartment. We were, doubtless, a disgusting item to everyone who had gotten to know us during our adversarial phase, always hanging on one another, kissing and touching. I had lunch with her every day—they held the back booth for us at McGuigan’s—and one afternoon as we were settling in, Mia materialized beside the booth. “Hello,” she said and stuck out a hand to Andrea.
Startled, Andrea shook her hand and I, too, was startled—until that moment, Mia had been unrelentingly hostile in her attitude toward my ex, referring to her as “that uppity skank” and in terms less polite. I noticed that she was dressed conservatively and not made up as an odalisque. Instead of being whipped into a punky abstraction, her hair was pulled back into a ponytail. The raspberry streak was gone. She was, in fact, for the first time since I had known her, streakless.
“May I join you?” Mia asked. “I won’t take up much of your time.”
Andrea scooted closer to the wall and Mia sat next to her.
“I heard you guys were back together,” said Mia. “I’m glad.”
Thunderstruck, I was incapable of fielding that one. “Thanks,” said Andrea, looking to me for guidance.
Mia squared up in the booth, addressing me with a clear eye and a firm voice. “I’m moving to Pittsburgh. I’ve got a job lined up and I’ll be taking night classes at Pitt, then going full-time starting next summer.”
Hearing this issue from Mia’s mouth was like hearing a cat begin speaking in Spanish while lighting a cheroot. I managed to say, “Yeah, that’s…Yeah. Good.”
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner. I’m leaving tomorrow. But I heard you and Andrea were together, so…” She glanced back and forth between Andrea and myself, as if expecting a response.
“No, that’s fine,” I said. “You know.”
“It was a destructive relationship,” she said with great sincerity. “We had some fun, but it was bad for both of us. You were holding me back intellectually and I was limiting you emotionally.”
“You’re right,” I said. “Absolutely.”
Mia seemed surprised by how smoothly things were going, but she had, apparently, a pre-arranged speech and she by-God intended to give it.
“I understand this is sudden. It must come as a shock…”
“Oh, yeah.”
“…but I have to do this. I think it’s best for me. I hope we can stay friends. You’ve been an important part of my growth.”
“I hope so, too.”
There ensued a short and—on my end, anyway—baffled silence.
“Okay. Well, I…I guess that’s about it.” She got to her feet and stood by the booth, hovering; then—with a sudden movement—she bent and kissed my cheek. “Bye.”
Andrea put a hand to her mouth. “Oh my God! Was that Mia?”
“I’m not too sure,” I said, watching Mia walk away, noting that there had been a complete absence of moues.
“An important part of her growth? She talks like a Doctor Phil soundbyte. What did you do to her?”
“I’m not responsible, I don’t think.” I pushed around a notion that had occurred to me before, but that I had not had the impetus to consider more fully. “Do you know anyone who’s exhibited a sudden burst of intelligence in the past few weeks? I mean someone who’s been going along at the same pace for a while and suddenly they’re Einstein. Relatively speaking.”