"Hello?" a familiar old voice. I had to smile.

"Hey Hank," I said, "How've you been?"

"Amita, child, I thought you were done with these late nights," Hank replied with laughter in his voice.

"Not quite yet. Do you think you can let me in one last time?" I asked.

Hank let out a short breath, "Sure, baby girl. I'm telling ya. Ya work too hard."

"Only way to get ahead. So I'll see you in about an hour?"

"Yeah. See ya then," Hank replied calmly.

"Bye," I said and hung up the phone.

Hank was the security guard at Cal-Sci. I've known him ever since I started working on my advanced degrees. He's a sweet, cubby, black guy who always let me stay on campus late. After a while, he just gave me his cell number and told me whenever I needed, Cal-Sci could be my office. Now was definitely the time I needed to have a special place to work. After Hank let me in, I went to the place that was the central point of my problems. Charlie's office.

I glanced around the office admiring the organized chaos that was typical of Charlie's office. I thought about all the times I just sat here working or watching Charlie work. My favorite memories were of me and Charlie working together. It didn't matter if we were working on my thesis or an equation or on one of Don's cases; there was something almost magical about the way our minds connected. I always knew when Charlie needed something even before he told me and he could always give me a new perspective or approach to what I was dealing with.

But ever since I heard from Harvard, I've blocked Charlie out. We can still work together, but I hadn't realized how intertwined my life was with Charlie's until I was given the opportunity to separate from him. I was elated when I got the offer, but something inside of me was hurt.

Oddly enough, there was nothing on the chalkboard. I guess that last case took more out of Charlie than I thought. Right now, though, I prefer it this way. I'd hate to think that I'm stopping Charlie's work with a problem of my own… Although lately, I always seem to be doing that, asking for his advice, his opinion. It's like I can't help myself. If I have problem, it's natural to consult Charlie, the smartest person I know…granted he's not always the wisest. But Charlie can't consult me on this problem.

I walked to the chalkboard and picked up the chalk. I took a deep breath and wrote an equation to quantify my situation. I remember Charlie doing this to analyze his dreams. What can I say? Great minds think alike… although I don't know whether or not math helped Charlie in that situation. When I finished my initial equation, I took a step back and looked at my work.

The central variable in my equation is C∆r/∆t. Charlie equals the change in our relationship in respect of time. I've quantified our relationship on a scale from -5 to 5. -5 means that we hate each other. 5 means we're in love and 0 means we're strangers or simply not speaking. It seems that our relationship has progressed at a rate of about 1.5 per year, meaning that in 4.4 years we should be lovers…the fourth anniversary of that day in Mr. Hardy's class is in 3 months.

But that was only one factor in my equation. I had to include salary, faculty, prestige, facility and student body in this decision. In that respect, my "Charlie factor" was relatively small. But as I worked out the equation for each scenario, Cal-Sci and Harvard still remained on equal footing. There was no significant numerical advantage to either situation. I tried several different approaches and kept on coming up with the same answer. I worked all night and started to think that maybe this was as unsolvable as P vs. NP. I left the board and sat in my usual place in the office. I stared at the board, waiting for inspiration to hit me. My mind started going around in circles, discarding theories almost as fast as I thought them up.

It seems that a long train of abstract mathematics and physics theories has the same effect on me as counting sheep, because the next thing knew, the sun was beaming through the office window. I raised my head off of the desk and was disoriented for minute. I took a breath and smelled…Charlie. A mixture of earth, chalk and something so gentle I can't quite describe it. I looked over my shoulder and noticed a light jacket had been placed on me. On the board, my equations were still there, but there was something written next to it with a post-it note attached.

I slowly stood up, removed the jacket and walked to the board. The note said: Often times love means taking yourself out of the equation. -Charlie

I stood frozen for a second. Amazed that he knew what I was doing and apparently he was more aware of my feelings that I thought. Also, there was the possibility that Charlie was in love with me, if I read the implications of that sentence right. I looked up at the equation that Charlie had finished. It didn't include the relationship factor. It concluded with Harvard having a significant advantage over Cal-Sci. I checked and double checked his findings. There were no mistakes. The answer to my problems was staring me in the face. It was simple, elegant and perfect. Then why did feel so wrong?