Impossible Relationship

A satirical tale about mathematical relationship

Minus and Zero, w/c on paper, by Aida AZ

I snatch a drink from an open bar and quickly head to the corner of our big conference room. By the time I get to my favorite spot my drink freezes. It always happens when I hold it for too long. I put it aside on a little table next to me to let it thaw and observe the crowd.

The conference room fills up with digits from every department. There are a few big numbers here as well. Apparently, our company is celebrating a profitable end-of-quarter tonight. I had no idea. No one told me. They were probably hoping I wouldn't show up to jinx the success. But I overheard someone in the elevator this morning about the party. So here I am, having a free drink.

I catch a few digits staring at me with an even glare, rubbing their arms theatrically.

“Yeah, the chill follows me. Have some vodka,” I yell to them. But, in the big room, they are too far to hear me. What are they complaining about, anyway? At least their drinks are actually liquid, mine will be thawing for god knows how long.

None of the digits or numbers are ever happy about me being around. But I couldn't care less about their feelings. I know who I am and my place in the world. What are they going to do, fire me? I'll always be a part of the “team” whether the management wants it or not. Without me there would never be any improvements about how things are run, because I'm brutally honest about everyone's business affairs. They can't function without Minus. How else would they know that their business is about to go south.

My drink had finally thawed a little so I sip some of it through a paper straw, quickly swallowing the content before it freezes in my mouth. I would've ordered a hot cider, but shouldn't indulge in high-temperature liquids. Doctor's orders.

Showing up at the corporate events is never about a free drink anyway. It's about seeing Zero, catching her gaze now and then.

When I met Zero for the first time, an eternity ago it seems, I thought I was going to lose my mind. We were at the open bar, shoulder to shoulder, getting drinks. It was one of those end-of-fiscal-year corporate celebrations. My drink took no time to make because it was just a spiked coffee, hers was cynosure martini. I took my drink but didn't leave. As Zero patiently watched bartender struggle with keeping an anise star submerged and right in the middle of the liquid, I watched her. Then, she looked at me. Her big, round eyes were mesmerizing; their gaze was hypnotizing and pulling me into its dark void where a bottomless existence felt like home, comforting and serene.

cynosure martini, w/c on paper, by Aida AZ

Suddenly my drink burst into small shards of glass and frozen coffee. Of course, Minus, you're an idiot, I scolded myself, you forgot to set your glass on the bar. My misfortune seemed to amuse her, and she almost smiled. I took an advantage of her unflappable reaction and introduced myself.

"My name is Minus," I said, "what's yours?" I hoped my question would ignite a conversation, but she kept looking at me, almost-smiling. My temperature rose, positively turning me into one of those up-curves who tend to move toward Infinity. (How was it even possible?) Then she stopped almost-smiling and whispered that her name was Zero, and we gazed at each other for a moment. She was about to say something to me, perhaps comment on my mishap with my drink, but some hunky Ninety-Seven, in his prime, swept her away from me. He didn’t even let her wait for her drink. What an asshole! I was about to slam into him, but realized that I'd be freezing everyone to death. I'm the good guy here, I reminded myself, and let Ninety-Seven be.

I could never get to her that evening. Or any other evenings for that matter. She seems to be always “guarded” by a bunch of those always positive-looking digits and numbers. As if I'm contagious; as if saying a word or two to me would shift the earth out of its orbit. I overhear some say that Zero is “too sophisticated and industrious for a loser like Minus”; or “just last quarter, she worked hard to pull so many numbers out of dangerously freezing zones.”

They're wrong. Not about Zero being sophisticated and industrious but about us being together. Maybe I'm too full of myself to think that, but Zero and I could be great for each other. For her benefit, I know that she likes gazing, and not everyone can handle her stare as long as I can. For my benefit, Zero is resistant to cold and could never freeze to death while being around me. That and I feel she really likes me. Why else would she glance in my direction every time we're at these stupid events?

But I also know that a public opinion is far more important to her than our relationship. No one likes to be belittled. Any number, let alone a digit next to me is immediately viewed in a negative light. And Zero... She wants to shine. And she does when she's with the right numbers, because her presence adds value to any relationship.

Perhaps, one day Zero won't care about what others may think of her when she is in my company. Until then I'll be religiously showing up at our corporate events, hoping that today is the day.

Yours truly,
Aida