by Erin Mallon
“For the record, I didn’t pull a no-show yesterday.”
“No?”
“No. I waited on the front lawn for you for over an hour. Lawn. Not fawn. Lawn.”
“Ah.”
“See ya around, Calliope.”
“Yeah, I’ll… I’ll see ya around.”
And then he walks away.
Why do I feel so sad watching him walk away?
And why are Bruce, Damon, and Lionel staring at me like that?
“Problem?” I fire at them, but it doesn’t have the heft I’d like it to have.
Lionel, bless his heart, just gives me a knowing smile, and simply says, “Team meeting in the exhibition hall in five.”
“In five. Yes. Thank you, Lionel.”
Lionel and the rest of my team file out, Bruce and Damon not so successfully hiding their smirks.
I’m left there, standing alone and confused in an empty planetarium, feeling more like that worthless speck of human goo than I did when I arrived.
There is one thing I know for sure, though.
There is no way I can fall for a guy with a name like Ralph.
Chapter Six
A few minutes later, I am mid-text conversation with Sasha while waiting outside the locked exhibition hall.
SASHA: That’s incredibly snobby, Lopey.
ME: Don’t call me Lopey.
SASHA: Apologies, frnd.
ME: And I’m not being snobby, I’m being realistic. Can you imagine being in the throes of passion and calling out the name Ralph? “Oh, Ralph! Give it to me, Ralph!”
SASHA: 1st, when was the last time you were in the throes of passion? 2nd, that’s not rlly the way you drty talk, is it? If so, you need to scratch “Give it to me!” frm ur sexvernacular rght away & 3rd, how the hell is the name Alf superior 2 Ralph?
ME: It just is.
SASHA: Ur a lunatic sometimes.
ME: Aren’t we all? Gotta go. Call you later.
“Are we interrupting your social hour, Miss FitzGerald?” Dr. Knowles’ smooth voice hits me before I am able to fully pocket my phone.
“Not at all, Dr. Knowles! Hi! I mean, hello! I mean, how was your morning? I’m so excited to see the progress on the exhibit!”
I’m babbling. And shouting apparently. Damn, this lady gets me all tied up in knots.
“Excellent. Shall we then?”
“We shall.”
I scurry beside her as she swipes her badge to give us access to the brand-new exhibition hall that was renovated specifically for our project. Lionel, Damon, and Bruce file in behind us.
“You should all find a moment to head to the security desk before you leave today. Tell Jerry you are part of the Trix and Monty Project, and he can give your badges access to the exhibit hall moving forward.”
“Wonderful, thanks. I’ll definitely do that. I was wondering, Dr. Knowles, when might be a good time for us to discuss your dig in South Dakota this summer?”
Our sensible heels click and clack side by side as we rapidly approach a big curtained-off area.
Oh my gosh, are Trix and Monty behind that curtain? Am I going to see them live and in person for the first time? Well, not live of course—bless their souls—but in person? I could cry in anticipation.
“What about South Dakota?” Dr. Knowles asks super casually as she rounds the curtain to the far side of the display. I click clack right alongside her.
“Oh. Well, it would really be a dream come true to assist you on that dig. Hell, it’s been a dream come true assisting you here at the museum, and so far, all you let me do is fetch you coffee and stuff gala invitation envelopes! So, I can only imagine what it would be like to actually be out in the field with you. The literal field, no less!”
I follow that up with a completely uncharacteristic giggle. I’m not a giggler.
Apparently, neither is Dr. Knowles. But I already knew that.
She stops in her tracks and turns her entire body to face me, her expression completely blank. “All I let you do is fetch coffee?”
Yikes.
Time to backpedal.
“Of course not, no. You also let me make photocopies, update spreadsheets, run errands, and take messages for you, and I’m completely grateful for every single opportunity you’ve—”
“I also let you run the young education programming for this exhibit.”
“Of course. And Dino Diggers is going really well so far. Thank you for trusting me with—”
“I let you be an integral part of planning the upcoming unveiling at our annual gala, an extremely important event where all our most valuable donors will be present.”
“Yes. And it is going to be the event of the century, I can feel it. I just—”
“And, Calliope, I let you join this team. A team that is bringing unprecedented findings to the science world: two dinosaurs found nearly fully intact and together, when all signs point to the fact that they should have been kept apart.”
“I know. It is truly amazing, and I couldn’t be more—”
“I let you…”
Oh God, she’s still going.
“… receive the gift of learning from scientists who are more than double your age, when there were nearly one hundred other worthy applicants who wanted your spot. And I consistently let you speak your mind, even when you’re completely out of line. So perhaps you should let me make the decisions on how your internship should proceed, and then I’ll happily let you know when you’ve done a good enough job at your current assignments for me to even consider broaching the discussion of letting you take on even more responsibility.”
What does one say after that?
Absolutely nothing.
One keeps her mouth shut.
What am I doing here? And why does this woman hate me so much?
Just as I feel my shoulders slump and my eyes close in defeat, Dr. Knowles gets very close to me and speaks in a hushed tone that sounds almost… kind? “I heard about what happened in the planetarium just now, Calliope. You and me? We have to do better than that.”
I nod at her, wide-eyed and thoroughly confused. Before I know it, though, she’s back to her regular programming, brusque and in total business mode.
“Alright, team, in a moment, I’m going to pull back this curtain and show you the two gorgeous creatures we are beyond fortunate to have in our museum. Our mounting team has done a brilliant job of assembling these skeletons, and Bruce and his workers have built a solid foundation for them to stand on.”
“IATSE proud!” Bruce barks and bangs on his chest twice. Then in a quieter voice, seemingly just for me, he whispers “I’m a proud member of the International Alliance of Theatrical Stage Employees, aka IATSE.”
“Yeah. You, uh, you’ve mentioned that. A few times.” I speak out of the corner of my mouth while keeping my eyes fixed on Dr. Knowles.
Bruce continues to the whole group, “Thank you, Eileen. Still plenty of work to be done on the habitat: adding trees, shrubs, some water sources… you know, generally making the Badlands look more badass, but we’re getting there.” He takes this opportunity to speak directly to me again. “Spoiler alert: the Badlands of South Dakota were actually much more verdant and lush back then than they are today.”
“I’m well-versed in the climate of the Cretaceous period. But thank you.” It takes all my emotional fortitude not to sneer this at him.
“It’s impressive work, Bruce. Well done. Alright now.” Dr. Knowles’ finger hovers over a button on the wall. Then, she seems to look directly into my eyes as she says, “Are we ready to see Trix and Monty?”
“We are,” I whisper.
I feel like I’ve been waiting for this moment my whole life.
She presses the button, and the curtain slowly starts to gather itself, making soft
clicking sounds as it moves around the track. I’m leaning to my right to catch the first glimpse. I can’t wait even another second. First, I see the tip of a bony tail, then a foot, then a leg, then a…
“Holy fuckin’ shit.” I breathe.
I realize too late that I said that out loud.
“I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to. I just—”
“Not a problem,” Dr. Knowles says. “This is a holy fuckin’ shit kind of moment, after all.”
All five of us stand in reverent silence.
Even Bruce.
An absolutely gorgeous thirty-six-foot-long Tyrannosaurus Rex skeleton stands in front of me. Next to her is a smaller—but no less impressive—Edmontosarus. The T-Rex’s body is twisting elegantly to the right, her gigantic jaw wide open and about to clamp down onto the thickest part of the hadrosaur’s tail. He looks back at her as if to say, “Yes. Shall we?” My head knows that they are arranged to look like they’re fighting, but somehow, all I see is dancing.
“Hi, Trix. Hi, Monty.”
I actually lift my hand to wave to them, but it just hangs in the air, a soft-palmed salute. I feel my jaw relax and lower. My shoulders do the same.
This must be what it feels like to fall in love for the first time.
I instantly want to get closer to them. To know everything about them. What were their lives like? Did they have families? Partners? Brothers? Sisters? Children? Did they know how magnificent they were while they were alive? How powerful and fearsome and fascinating? Did they know that one day little children—and grown-ups like me—would delight in reading about them, wondering about them, making up stories about them? That scientists would be lining up to study them, yearning to unlock all the mysteries they took with them when that asteroid hit? Were they prepared for the end when it happened? Were they scared?
“Hey FitzGerald. Are you… crying?” Bruce slaps a meaty hand on my shoulder, which I’m guessing was intended as a comfort, but it feels more like a fleshy paperweight pinned on my shoulder.
He’s right, though.
I am crying.
A single tear rolls down my right cheek and splashes on my collarbone.
When I realize this is happening, I whip my head toward Dr. Knowles, sure that this is yet another moment of weakness and incompetence for which I should be apologizing, but she isn’t paying an ounce of attention to me. She continues to stare straight ahead at the two beautiful behemoths in front of us. I could be wrong, but her eyes look like they have grown a bit misty too.
A jaunty knock on the door breaks the silence.
Dr. Knowles takes a quick swipe at her left eye, and says, “Lionel. Would you mind getting that? It’s Otto.”
Lionel presses the long silver bar on the door, and when he pushes it forward, who comes through but that creepy ass Christopher Lloyd-looking guy who was staring at me during Dino Diggers!
“Hello, Otto,” Dr. Knowles greets him warmly.
“Hey, boss.” His eyes catch on Trix and Monty then, and his whole face lights up in wonder. He suddenly looks six-years-old and not the sixty or seventy years old his birth certificate likely shows him to be.
“Wow. Wow, will you just look at them,” he says wistfully.
“Pull up your stool. Take your time,” Dr. Knowles says. “We’re actually heading to a meeting upstairs, so you can let yourself out when you’ve had your fill.”
“Thanks, boss.” With that, Otto unfolds a tiny camping stool he apparently had hanging from his belt, then takes an impressive squat on the low seat, opens a notebook, smiles up at Trix and Monty and… starts sketching.
“Damon?” Dr. Knowles says. “You’ll have some plaque options to run by me for the hadrosaurid skull display tomorrow, yes?”
“I will indeed.”
“Wonderful. Lionel? Bruce? My office please.” She turns to me, likely sees my confused face, and explains, “Final consult on the Cretaceous set dressing.” She turns to leave, and the two men move to follow her. What must it be like to have that kind of command? And hey, why wasn’t I included in this meeting?
“Dr. Knowles! I would really love to join you all in your office for this. I’m fascinated by the terrain of the—”
“And I would really love if you would pick up the rest of the gala invitations from printing on the fifth floor and then finish those up for us tonight.”
“Oh.”
“Can you do that for us?”
“Sure, I can, but—”
“Calliope? Whatever you want to say to me, we will discuss privately at your performance review in a few days. Understood?”
“Yeah. Yes. Understood.”
“Thank you for taking care of those for us.”
“Not a problem, Dr. Knowles.”
I’m left standing with Damon, who whips out his phone and starts scrolling the second our elders vacate. Elders is kind of a weird way to view our colleagues, but that’s how it sometimes feels, like Damon and I are the kids trying to keep the grown-ups on our team happy. Though clearly Damon is much better at that than I am.
I speak to him in a hushed tone and jerk my head in the direction of the older fellow.
“So that dude works for Dr. Knowles?”
“Otto? Hell no. Why would you think that?”
“Well, he called her boss, didn’t he?”
“He calls everyone boss. One of his quirks, I guess. Otto is a lifetime member of the museum. Practically lives here.”
“Wow.”
“Yeah, all the workers and patrons know and love him. Pretty much any day of the week, you can find him here, hanging around the dinosaur skeletons, sketching.”
“So, he’s harmless, you think?”
“Completely harmless, yeah. Why?”
“I don’t know. He just kind of weirded me out the other day.”
“Well yeah, he’s weird as all hell. Fascinating, though. Just… don’t take a sip of his tea.”
“What?”
“Never mind. I’m off to fuck around with some fonts for the Parasaurolophus plaques. ‘Scuse my language. I lose my filter toward the end of a long day.”
“No worries. Your language is fuckin’ safe with me.”
“Ha. You’re funny.”
“Thanks. I wish Dr. Knowles thought so.”
Damon is quiet a moment while he takes me in.
“Some advice?”
“Sure, why not.”
“Don’t let her make you doubt yourself. I’m pretty sure that’s the opposite of what she’s trying to get you to do.”
“How do you know that?”
A funny look comes over his face like he’s considering whether to answer my question. He doesn’t. Instead, he slings his leather bag over his shoulder and moves toward the exit. But before he pushes through the door, he says one more thing. ”She’s tough but fair. You’ll find your way with her. I’m sure of it.”
Then he’s gone too, and it’s just me and… Otto.
They did say his name is Otto, right? I’m one of those people who forgets someone’s name as soon as I learn it. It’s a flaw for sure, but I’m working on it. No, that’s a lie. I’m actually not working on it. I should be working on it.
I start walking a wide arc around him, acting like I’m studying the dinosaurs, but I’m really not. I’m studying him. Damon is right, this fella is fascinating, but I can’t quite put my finger on why. I get a direct view of his sketchpad over his right shoulder, and I kind of can’t believe what I see.
“Fuck a duck!”
“No thank you,” he responds but doesn’t look up. He just continues to sketch.
“I’m sorry. I meant, holy shit! You drew that?”
“I did.”
“Well, I mean, obviously you drew that. Your hand is still drawing it.” I watch him work silently for anot
her few moments. “Whoa! You just created the duckbill! I’ve seen illustrations of duck-billed dinosaurs before, but they usually end up looking like Donald or Daffy…
“Or Howard.”
“Howard?”
“Howard the Duck? 1986 film?”
“I don’t know what you’re saying.”
“Ah, you’re too young, I guess.” He looks up from his sketchpad to study my face as if he’s determining how youthful—or not—I may be. In turn, I study his face and all the lines that decorate it.
He returns to sketching. “You started off this interaction by saying fuck a duck, so I just figured we were heading toward an inevitable Howard the Duck discussion.”
“We weren’t.”
“Welp, I’ve been wrong before, and I’ll be wrong again. Check it out, though, when you can. Classic film.”
He only takes brief peeks up at the dinosaurs while he works. It’s almost as if he’s memorized them. Or he’s conjuring them on the page.
“Wow. Look at you go on his rib cage! Man, you’re really giving Monty the class he deserves. Yes, he’s an Edmontosaurus who couldn’t stand to be alone and had to constantly surround himself with other hadrosaurs. Sure, he lacked a bony crest and had a weak, seemingly toothless jaw. And yeah, we all know he was being chomped on by a female T-Rex at the time of his death, but still, he is beautiful and strong and elegant. And you’re really capturing that. Gosh, I don’t know why, but standing here now in front of us, all these millions of years later… he seems to radiate kindness. Don’t you think? I get the impression he was such a gentle and wise creature. I feel the goodness in his literal bones.”
Otto is staring at me as though he doesn’t know how to contribute to my romanticized prehistoric ramblings.
After a moment, he blurts out, “Well, like I always say, a dinosaur can have a duckbill and still roar.”
“You always say that?”
“I do.”
All right. Maybe my first impression of this guy was accurate. He’s hella strange. But whatever. So am I.
“Anyway. Mad props on your skills, sir.”
“Thank you, but drop the sir please. I’m not your grandpa.”