Dear Algebra. Stop asking me to look for your X. She won't come back. And I don't know Y.
The text on the guy's t-shirtâhe was Lars, from the instituteâwould have irked me a few weeks ago. But now it just made me smile.
Lars was leaning against one of the tables of the Matheria, which Carl and I had pushed against the wall to make room for my surprise goodbye event.
"Now, will you tell us what this is all about?" He gestured at the aperitif that we had heaped onto the buffet: crackers, cheese, pates, quiche and olives.
"Just a few more minutes." My grin felt like the one of a maniac. "Patience, you must have." I had previously asked HR to keep my notice confidential until the end of the month, not wanting everyone to prod me about it. I would be the one choosing the time to break the news.
And that time was now.
"Evan here's got some big news." Carl patted my back affectionately.
Carl was actually the only one I had told about my imminent departure. He first had frowned upon hearing about it, but then he had hugged me and simply said he'd miss my lame jokes. I had hugged him back and told him I'd miss his fat frame.
After that display of manly affection, and an awkward moment of silence, we had laughed and gone back to business as usual.
Anyway, here I was. And so was the crowdâLars and his linear algebra group, the flock of machine learning nerds, and us statisticiansâor statists as everyone else called us.
Roscoe, another linear algebraist, reached for one of the glasses of Prosecco.
Carl lifted a finger. "You can touch, man, but don't you dare drink it yet!"
"That's cruel." Roscoe put his hand on his chest. "Jesus said if anyone is thirsty, let him come and drink."
"That may be so, but He's not here now. We're the rulers of the buffet andâ" Carl paused, then he nudged me. "Give a careful peek towards 9:30. The royal couple is blessing us with their presence."
Royal couple?
I did as advisedâjust in time to see Helen enter with George the Chancellor at her side.
They were not holding hands, at least.
"Who invited them?" I whispered.
"I did," Carl whispered back.
"What? Why did you do that?" I had not expected these two lovebirds at my party.
"I'm just dying to see her face when she hears the news." Carl snickered.
"That's..." I hesitated. What was it? Cruel? Crazy? Cunning? "That's interesting."
The two of them made a beeline towards us.
"Hey, Carl." George tapped my friend's arm. "Thanks for having us at your... surprise event."
The shoulders of the man's dark jacket were sprinkled with dandruff, just as I had suspected. I wrinkled my nose at the sight.
"Actually, this isn't my surprise event." Carl stepped out of George's reach with a wide grin. "It's Evan's." He pointed at me.
"Oh, great! Thanks, then, Evan." George's gaze grazed my face and moved on to the buffet. "Oh, are those ham croissants I see?"
Turning his back on Carl, Helen, and me, he strode off towards the aperitif.
I was relieved to see him gone. Being around the lover of my ex felt weird.
"So... what is all this about?" Hellen, my ex, waved her hands at the Matheria and the crowd therein.
"You'll learn in a few minutes." I glanced at my wrist watch. "In two minutes, precisely."
She fidgeted with a golden brooch adorning her dark blue jacket.
I scratched my head.
She glanced at her watch.
I tugged at my beige sweaterâit had a coffee stain on its sleeve.
"You look nice, Helen," said Carl. "Great tan."
In my thoughts, I blessed the man for stomping on this awkward moment.
"Oh, thanks, Carl." She flashed him a big smile. "George and I spent the weekend in Catham, in the Wequasset. He loves to play golf there." She pointed a finger at her chubby companion who was now stuffing his face with a ham croissant and already reaching for the next. "Long walks on the beach. All that jazz. You know how it is." She shrugged.
I didn't know how it was. The Chancellor had never invited me to a luxury golf resort, but I didn't bother to point this out. Nor did I really miss the experience, truth be told.
I glanced at my watch again. 16:00.
Relieved, I walked over to the buffet, grasped a glass of Prosecco, and chimed it with a spoon. "And now, it is time for a speech."
As I watched the crowd helping themselves to their drinks, I tried to remember the start of my talk. I must have rehearsed it about a hundred times, in my mind, and now its words were gone.
I clutched the glass in my hand, ready for the toast. Toast! Yes, that was it!
I cleared my throat. "It is not only time for one toast. Let me give you three of them."
You could have heard a pin drop while I made them wait, biting my tongue.
"Here is the first toast. It goes to... the Matheria." I took a long sip, letting the bubbly, cool liquid caress my throat.
"Hear, hear!" someone from the crowd said.
"This place is a bit like home to me," I went on. "It has character. Just look at all the aged paint clinging to its walls. At these flickering fluorescent lamps that will never get fixed. And this persistent smell of cold food." I sniffed the airâyes, it was there. "It is more than a canteen. It is... the fulcrum of mathematics."
Lars laughed.
"The second toast goes to... you." I spread my arms, encompassing them all. Even HelenâI was feeling generous, or maybe it was the alcohol. Then I took another sipâan even longer one. "You have all been my companions for the past decade or so. I have been blessed to spend time with you."
The people clapped.
When the noise abated, I continued. "And the third toast goes to the future. May it guide you to crack the Riemann Hypothesis and the Twin Prime Conjecture. Because I know you've got the guts and the brains to do this." I paused, enjoying the grins on their faces. Enjoying the Chancellor's glazed look as well as Helen's frown. "But you'll have to do this alone because I won't be there to help you. I'm leaving the institute tomorrow. Cheers!"
With that, I drank the rest of my Prosecco.
They were staring at me, speechless.
"Yes, you've heard the man right," Carl added. "He'll start a new job on the first of April, and that's no joke! So, let's give him a big hand and wish him luck." He clapped his hands, and the crowd slowly joined him.
"And what's your new job? What will you do?" Lars shouted, over the noise.
I pointed at him. "Good question, man. I'll be melding the playful soul of math and the steel muscle of business. And I will also cut random risk with the sharp edge of statistics. I'll become an actuary at Best Boston Insurances."
There was nothing wrong with recycling good words.
Claps and a few whistles arose and carried me through a maelstrom of emotion.
When I had signed the contract some weeks ago and put my signature under my notice to the university, it all had felt abstract and remote.
But right here, right now, I was taking a real step.
The step.
The step away from who I was. The step towards something else entirely. The step towards someone new.
Somehow, another glass found its way into my hand, and I more than welcomed the buzzing dizziness it lent me as I talked to people. They were all congratulating me, shaking my hands, patting my shoulders.
And some of them made the expected actuarial jokes.
For a while, it was all a blur of faces, voices, food, and drink.
"... and how can you tell a difference between an introverted actuary and an extroverted actuary?" Roscoe asked.
I knew the reply by now. This was the third time someone had brought the question up. An introverted actuary stares at his own feet during a conversation, while an extroverted one stares at the other person's feet.
Hoping to catch one of the leftover quiches, I headed straight for the buffet.
A fat, heavy palm descended on my shoulder, nearly making my knees buckle. "Good man!" Chancellor George boomed. "Business is golden. I keep telling this to my students when they start working for Bean Counters."
Bean Countersâthe Chancellor's startup company. No one knew what they did, exactly. Nor did I care. Maybe they were counting beans for real.
Helen joined us, and the Chancellor's paw left my shoulder and descended on hers. The impact made her frown, but she said nothing.
"I'll leave you two alone for your goodbyes," he said and headed towards the buffet again.
Helen had yellowish stains on her white blouse. I felt sorry for herâshe had always tried to keep her clothes immaculate.
She gestured at the food. "Great idea, with the buffet. Though I was a bit surprised by the donuts. I would not have thought you were into that kind of food."
I felt myself blushing as I looked at the stack of pastries I had added to the menu as an afterthought. "They are quite good, you know. You should try one."
My ex giggled, tilting her head back. "Oh, Evan. Sometimes, you are such a goofball."
"Oh, and while we're talking about change..." I held up a slightly tipsy finger to catch her attention. "Have you ever thought of dying your hair? Blue might look great on you."
She frowned. "I guess you've had one glass too many, there." Then her gaze softened. "But I must admit, you do surprise me at times. Such as with your... career change. Quite a step, I must admit. I would not have expected it from you. Isn't that the insurance in the Best Boston Tower?"
"Right, that's where I'll work. Up in the sky!"
She whistled, silently. "I've heard they've got offices as cool as the ones at Google."
"It's a great place, yes."
"So... gratulations to you, then." A small smile on her face, she extended her hand. "I guess I will see you around."
Her palm was cold and clammy to the touch.
When Helen left Matheria, guarded by Mr. Bean Counter, Carl joined me, holding a bottle of beer. "Dude, did you see the look on her face when you made your announcement? It was priceless!"
I shook my head no.
"She was so surprised, she spat orange juice all over her shirt." He laughed. "And made eyes bigger than a pair of quiches."
"She did?" I should have kept an eye on her for her reaction.
"That was a great speech, by the way. You really are leaving with a big bang." He squeezed my arm.
"Thanks. That speech..." I searched for words. "It made me feel as if I were burning a bridge... you know, after crossing it."
"That is what you did, kind of." Carl raised his beer bottle in a solemn salute. "We are still your friends, though. I'd better see you around, did you hear me? Don't be a stranger. You've got my number, man."
The linear algebra group laughed, probably about yet another actuarial joke Lars had made.
Carl was right, we still were friends. But the bridge was burned down now, and there was no going back to the home that was the Matheria.
I would have to find a new home on this side of the river.
My heart was thumping.