CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

On the other side of the campus, Angel was struggling to keep the two young women in the front row from getting any closer to him. He was attempting to explain a mathematical theorem, and they seemed to think it was some sign to get closer.

"Thefundamental theorem of calculusis a theorem that links the concept of differentiating a function — calculating its slopes or rate of change at each point in time — with the concept of integrating a function — calculating the area under its graph or the cumulative effect of small contributions. Roughly speaking, the two operations can be thought of as inverses of each other.

"The first part of the theorem, thefirst fundamental theorem of calculus, states that for a continuous function f , an antiderivative or indefinite integral F can be obtained as the integral of f over an interval with a variable upper bound.

"Conversely, the second part of the theorem, thesecond fundamental theorem of calculus, states that the integral of a function f over a fixed interval is equal to the change of any antiderivative F between the ends of the interval. This greatly simplifies the calculation of a definite integral provided an antiderivative can be found by symbolic integration , thus avoiding numerical integration ."

Most of the students were scribbling notes and staring at his graphic on the screen. But the two young women were giggling.

"Ladies, is there a problem?" he frowned.

"No, it's just that when you talk about math, it's hot," giggled one of the girls.

"It's not math. It's calculus. There's a difference. If you can't pay attention and actually learn in this class, you're going to have to leave. I'm here to teach you. Calculus. That's all."

"Geez, we were giving you a compliment," said the other girl.

"It wasn't a compliment. I'm a married man old enough to be your grandfather. What you were doing was objectifying me, and if it had been done to you, you would have run to the president of the university and complained."

"Alright, alright, we're sorry," said the second young woman.

"Thank you. Let's move on." He continued his lecture for another forty minutes, watching as those that understood continued to write and those that did not began falling asleep.

"Okay, enough," he said as the entire room looked up. "Listen, I know that calculus isn't for everyone, but if you're considering careers in mathematics, engineering, chemistry, computer science, pharmaceuticals, medicine, anything that requires this subject, you need to know it. It's my job to impart the information to you, but it's your job to absorb it, use it, question it. Clear?"

"Clear," said the room. "Alright, I'll see you next class."

The students left the room, and when he was finally alone, he let out a long, slow breath. Hearing the door open, he expected to see Mary and Noah. Instead, he saw Ian smiling at him.

"Did you hear all that?" he asked.

"I heard part of it. I don't get it. As you pointed out, we're old enough to be their grandfathers. Do all these girls have daddy issues?"

"I'm guessing that they do," said Angel. "All I know is that it's exhausting and disruptive. I'll be glad, for many reasons, when this is all done."

"Me too, brother. Me too. Noah texted and said he was taking Mary home and not to worry."

"I don't think I could worry when I know my wife is with one of the most capable, huge-ass men I've ever known," he chuckled. "Did they see anything or hear anything unusual today?"

"Nothing," said Ian. "My class is primarily men, but I have a few young women in there. They're focused on the curriculum, nothing else. The closest I got to anything remotely like what we're looking for is someone asking me if I was ever afraid going into battle." Angel looked up at the older man, cocking his head.

"What did you say?"

"Fuck yes. I would be an idiot to not be afraid going into battle. But you and I both know that you have to swallow that fucking fear and recognize that you have the skills, equipment, and manpower to get you through. That's how you conquer the fear. You don't have time to be afraid. You're not allowed that luxury in battle. If you allow yourself that luxury, you die."

"Just making sure you and I were on the same page," smirked Angel.

"I don't know what you were worried about. You're the man who was shot a dozen times and survived."

"Eleven," laughed Angel. "And I was just lucky."

"And the scar on your face?" asked Ian.

"That got me my wife. I'd do it again a million times to have her." Ian slapped his back as they left the room.

"Amen to that, brother. Amen."