The housekeeper and the professor

causing a head-on collision with a car ... Professor of Mathematics ...
suffered severe head injuries and is in critical condition, while his sister-in-
law, who was in the passenger seat, is in serious condition with a broken leg.
The driver of the truck suffered only minor injuries and is being interviewed
by police, who suspect he fell asleep at the wheel.
I closed the volume, remembering the sound of the widow's cane.
I still have the Professor's note, though the photograph of Root has long
since faded. Euler's formula comforts me—it is a memento that I still
treasure.
I've often asked myself why the Professor wrote this particular formula at
that moment. Simply by writing out this one equation and placing it between
us, he put an end to the argument between myself and the widow. And as a
result, I returned to work as his housekeeper and the Professor renewed his
friendship with Root. Had he been calculating this outcome from the
beginning? Or, in his confusion, had he simply written a formula at random?
There was no way to tell.
What was certain was the Professor's affection for Root. Fearful that Root
would think he had caused the argument, the Professor came to his rescue in
the only way he knew how. After all these years, I'm still at a loss for words
to describe how purely the Professor loved children—except to say that it
was as unchangeable and true as Euler's formula itself.
My son's needs always took precedence with the Professor, who only
sought to protect him. Watching over my son was the Professor's greatest
joy. And Root appreciated the Professor's attentions. He never ignored or
took these kindnesses for granted, and acknowledged that they should be
fully recognized and respected. I could only marvel at Root's maturity. If I
was setting out their snack and gave the Professor a larger portion than Root,
he would invariably scold me. It was a matter of principle that the biggest
piece of fish or steak or watermelon should go to the youngest person at the
table. Even when he was at a critical point with a math problem, he still
seemed to have unlimited time for Root. He was always delighted when
Root asked a question, no matter what the subject; and he seemed convinced

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that children's questions were much more important than those of an adult.
He preferred smart questions to smart answers.
The Professor also showed concern for Root's physical wellbeing and
watched over him with care. He noticed ingrown hairs or boils long before I
did; he didn't stare or touch him in order to discover these things, he simply
knew and he would tell me discreetly, so as not to worry Root. I can still
recall him whispering in my ear as I was working in the kitchen. "Do you
think we ought to do something about that boil?" he might murmur, as if the
world were coming to an end. "Children have quick metabolisms. It might
suddenly swell up and press on his lymph nodes or even block his
windpipe." He was especially anxious when it came to Root's health.
"Fine. I'll pop it with a needle," I'd say—casually enough to get him truly
angry.
"But what if it gets infected?!"
"I'll disinfect the needle first over the stove," I would say, teasing him. His
concern for Root delighted me, although I didn't show it.
"Absolutely not! You can't kill all the germs like that!" He refused to let up
until I had agreed to take Root straight to the doctor.
He treated Root exactly as he treated prime numbers. For him, primes were
the base on which all other natural numbers relied; and children were the
foundation of everything worthwhile in the adult world.
I still take out that note sometimes and study it. On sleepless nights, or
lonely evenings, when tears come to my eyes thinking about friends who are
no longer here. I bow my head in gratitude for that one line.

---

8
It was on the day of the Star Festival that the Tigers lost their seventh
game in a row, 1-0 against Taiyo.
I'd had no trouble falling back into the rhythm of the job, despite my
month away. And because of the Professor's memory problem, he
immediately forgot my misunderstanding with his sister-in-law. For him, no
trace of the trouble remained.
I transferred the notes to his summer suit, taking care to fasten them in the
same positions, and I rewrote those that were torn or faded.
"In an envelope in the desk, second drawer from the bottom."
"