Mind the Gap | ✔️

March 30 @ 3:55 P.M.: Evan

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-shirt—he was Lars, from the institute—would 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 crowd—Lars and his linear algebra group, the flock of machine learning nerds, and us statisticians—or 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 and—" 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 advised—just 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.