by Erin Mallon
“Hey everybody, this is Ralph! Ralph killed the dinosaurs!”
Well, that was certainly a choice, Calliope.
The children immediately explode into chaos.
“Ralph sucks!”
“Send Ralph to jail!”
“You’re a terrible person, Ralph!”
To make things worse, little Oliver takes the opportunity to act out his sorrow and rage by silently pummeling his little fists into Ralph’s very taut belly. Huh. Go, Oliver. I didn’t know he had that in him.
“Whoa, why would you say that?” Ralph says to me under his breath while trying to protect his junk from Oliver’s wild punches.
“I’m sorry, I’m trying to relate to these kids!”
“By telling them I’m a murderer? Geez!”
“Kids? Kids, calm down! Oliver, no punching. Not even big strong guys like my friend here. Everybody sit crisscross applesauce, please.”
Well, miracles do happen. They actually listen and settle in an organized line on the carpeted floor. I squat down to address the seven tiny humans who are in my care for… I peek at my phone. Oh thank God, only five more minutes.
“I said something silly just now. My friend Ralph did not kill the dinosaurs. A big asteroid did.”
“My daddy has an asteroid in his butt from straining too much when he poops.”
“I’m sorry to hear that, Holden, but I think what your daddy has is actually called a hemorrhoid, not an asteroid. An asteroid is a huge space rock.”
“Ha! Holden’s dad has a huge space rock in his butt!”
“Finn, please. Everybody, Ralph here is an astronomer. That means he studies the stars and planets. Isn’t that cool? He works in the planetarium. That’s why he knows so much about asteroids and meteors and other awesome outer space things. So… feel free to ask him any questions you have about space!”
“Did I agree to guest lecture at your class, and I don’t remember?” Ralph says out of the corner of his mouth.
“I have five minutes left, and I’m all out of lessons. Please?” I mumble and look at him with pleading eyes.
He sighs, then turns his attention to the kids with a warm, genuine smile.
“Hit me, friends!” he says, but then he thinks better of it and gives Oliver a funny evil eye. “But not literally, kiddo. Omph, my belly is still sore from that beatdown.” He holds an arm across his stomach and pretends to stumble with pain.
Oliver starts to tear up again. “I’m so sorry, Space Man!” he wails.
“Shhh. It’s okay, buddy. I feel that frustrated energy in my body sometimes too. But instead of hitting and kicking people, I go to ka-ra-tay and practice hitting and kicking wooden boards.”
Could this guy be any sweeter? Even with his dumbass pronunciation of karate.
“Alright!” I clap my hands together like a classic schoolmarm. “We have four minutes. Who has a question for Ralph?”
Harper’s hand shoots up, and she doesn’t even wait to be called on. Atta girl.
“My name is Harper, and I’d like to know what is a planterarium?”
Ralph tries to hide his smile at her botched pronunciation.
“Hi, Harper. A planetarium is a big building where we project images of the stars and planets on a huge domed ceiling so everyone can learn about space. It’s kind of like sitting inside a huge ball in a super comfy chair and looking up at the night sky. Our museum actually has one right through those doors there.” He points. “Raise your hand if you’ve ever been to a planetarium!”
A few tiny hands shoot up, including Harper’s again.
“Oh, okay!” she says. “I get it now. I went to a planetarium in New Jersey last year. We saw a show where Big Bird and Elmo go to the moon with Hu Hu Zhu, their friend from China.
“Oh, yeah? How’d you like that, Harper?”
“I found it to be very problematic actually.”
“Really.”
Ralph gives me a look that telegraphs “what is up with this kid?”
I just smile. She’s awesome.
“Yes. I thought there was a real opportunity to learn about Hu Hu Zhu’s culture, but other than a quick Chinese version of “Twinkle Twinkle Little Star” or “Yī Shan Yī Shan Liàng Jīng Jīng,” we really didn’t learn much.”
“Huh. Well… you could always put a note in the museum’s suggestion box about that if you like.”
“Oh, I did!”
“Okay! Next question!”
I brace myself for Finn’s question.
“What is your job in the planetarium?”
Hey, not bad.
“I do a lot of things. Finn, is it?”
Finn nods.
“Cool. Yeah, Finn, I do a lot of different things. Research mostly but I am also starting to write the scripts for the shows we produce and even narrating them!”
He seems so excited about those aspects. His cheeks are even getting a bit pink talking about it.
“Yes…”
He’s clearly searching for the next questioner’s name. I whisper, “That’s Holden.”
“Yes, Holden.”
“What does narrate mean?”
“It’s a narrator’s job to tell the story. In this case, I narrate the story into a microphone while all the beautiful space images fly by overhead.”
“But how can you be the narrator if you don’t sound loike dis? Everyone who narrates nay-chuh and spayce shows sounds loike dis!”
Oliver has just busted out a confusing but somewhat impressive blend of cockney and posh British accents. Kids, man. I’m finding they are way more fascinating than I ever gave them credit for.
“Well, there is some truth to that, my friend. I’m guessing your parents have set you in front of the telly with Richard Attenborough-narrated BBC documentaries. Who could blame them, they’re terrific. And you’re right; Sir Richard certainly tawks loike dis. Helen Mirren did a terrific job with a film about lion prides not too long ago, and in the kids’ program we’re currently running about underwater sea creatures, Kate Winslet does a jolly good job with the text…”
The kids and I stare at Ralph as he gives Oliver a run for his money with a mishmash of accents. What the heck is happening here? And he’s still going.
“But! What if we told the great American-born Morgan Freeman, who does not tawk loike dis, that he can’t narrate? Then where would we be? I’ll tell you where, Oliver. No ‘March of the Penguins,’ no ‘Story of God’ National Geographic mini-series, none of those great voiceovers in Shawshank Redemption, and geez, no Visa commercials, CBS news spots, or the option to use him when navigating your car on the Waze app!”
“Is that really an option?” My curiosity gets the best of me for a moment.
“It is, Calliope! It is an option! Mr. Freeman guided me and my 1998 Volvo home from an out of town conference last week, and I’ve never felt in such capable, commanding hands before.”
“Interesting. Hey Ralph, I think we should probably wrap this—”
“My point is, kids. Don’t ever let anyone tell you what you can and can’t do in this world. This universe is wide open to you and your dreams! And that is true whether you tawk loike dis a la Sir Attenborough or you talk like this…”
Oh dear God, was that his Morgan Freeman impression?
“… like Mr. Freeman. Follow your hearts and do great things, kids!”
Silence descends as we all stare at Ralph, who has gotten very juiced over the past minute or so.
I start a slow clap.
“Wow, let’s all thank Ralph! I had no idea we were going to get treated to such an inspiring speech.”
“Yeah, me neither,” he says as he stares down at his shoes, looking all sorts of embarrassed now.
“Oh, look! Jamie is here now to take you to Critter Corner with Mabel!”<
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“Yay!” the kids yell in near unison. They really love Mabel. They sling their little backpacks over their shoulders and organize themselves into a line.
“Great work today, diggers! Get ready for tomorrow when we’ll be talking all about flying dinosaurs! Bye, everybody!”
“So,” Ralph says once the last of the kids has shuffled off, and we’re standing here alone.
“So,” I repeat.
“That was a new experience for me.”
“Giving an impromptu valedictorian speech during a kids’ science spring break camp?”
“No, I was referring to last night. That was definitely the first time I’ve needed to be physically removed from a woman’s home.”
“Oh. So we’re just going to breeze past what happened just now?”
“For now, yeah.”
“You sure? Because you seem pretty riled up. What happened, did your boss say you couldn’t narrate the dinosaur program, or…?”
“Last night, after you all but slammed your door in my face, the older lady who lives next to you peeked out from her apartment at me. Her security chain was still in place for her protection from the dangerous man clutching his loafers to his chest, I suppose, and she literally tsk tsk-ed me.”
“She actually said the words tsk tsk?”
“She did.”
“Wow.”
“Yeah. Like I said, a new experience.”
He stands there in silence as if I owe him an explanation. I kind of do, right? Yeah, I do. Let’s give it a go.
“I’m really… I mean that’s—”
“What happened? I thought we were having fun.”
“We were.”
“Okay…” He drags out the word.
“You’re just so…”
“I’m so…?”
“You’re just really, really…”
“Oh God, don’t say it.”
“Nice.”
This visibly pisses him off.
“Nice? Great. Perfect. You know what? It was… interesting meeting you, Calliope. Best of luck with your new job. I guess I’ll just see you around.”
Then he turns to leave, and I find that I can’t let that happen.
“Ralph, don’t go. Can we maybe…?”
He zooms super close to me and lowers his voice.
“Don’t tell me you’re one of those women who is only interested in guys who treat them like crap.”
Wow, he’s really close. I have to look way up to meet his eyes. And I swear I can smell his shaving cream. I match his hushed volume.
“No, of course not, I just—”
“Because that’s just not me. Though, believe me, I’m considering it.”
“You’re considering treating women like crap?”
“Yes. I mean, no. Of course not!”
He must realize how intense we look to the folks walking by us. He backs up a few steps and looks at his feet before continuing.
“But it seems like my life would work a hell of a lot better if I did.”
“That’s ridiculous.”
“Is it?”
He stares into my eyes now. Damn, this guy is so… open. It’s beautiful and terrifying and…
“Will you take a walk with me, Ralph?”
“Where? Why?” It’s clear I’m testing this very patient man’s patience, and he’s about to give up on me.
“I don’t know. I just… I have a little time before my next meeting and…”
“And what?”
“And… it would be really nice to spend that time exploring the museum with you.”
Chapter Eleven
“You want to go in?”
He gestures to the giant anatomically correct walk-through heart exhibit.
“Into the heart?”
“Yeah.”
“Oh, no. I don’t do that.”
“Do what?”
“Go into the heart.”
“Didn’t you say you grew up coming to this museum?”
“Yeah, but that heart thing? Ew. No way. Never gone in there.”
“Why not?”
“First, gross. Second, ugh. Third, claustrophobia.”
“Are you actually?” he asks with concern.
“Claustrophobic? Yes? No? I don’t know, but after the elevator incident, I’m definitely a little bit wary of entering small spaces.”
“Understandable. But you gotta walk through the heart! How can you say you work in this museum yet have not experienced the famous walk-through heart?”
“I don’t know…” I say slowly, not quite convinced.
“I’ll protect you. Promise.”
Then he reaches out his hand and gives me that glorious smile.
I hesitate and roll my eyes, but how do I deny this guy? I take it.
“Excellent.”
We skirt our way around some kids who nearly knock us over while they exit through the entrance.
“Alright now,” he explains. “You are going to need to watch your head at certain points. Some of the ceilings are kind of low.”
“Have you seen my height? I’ll be just fine. It’s you I’m worried about, tall guy.”
“Nah, no need to worry about me. I have this thing memorized. One of my favorite spots in the city.”
As we approach the entrance, we are instantly enveloped in the thump-bump, thump-bump music of this massive heart.
“Oh, man,” I say. “That sound reminds me of the time I got my wisdom teeth out.”
“How’s that?”
“Well, they were impacted, so it hurt like a bitch afterward. I didn’t want to take the hydrocodone because drugs and I don’t really get along, but at a certain point, I really had no choice, so I cut the tiniest sliver off the pill, let it dissolve on my tongue, and I swear, within minutes, I felt and heard it pumping through my body like a drum. Boom! Boom! Boom! It was creepy as hell.”
“Creepy? Why?”
“I dunno. My… aliveness was freaky to me, I guess? The fact that we’re all fleshy, bony, organy creatures walking around with all these fluids pumping through us on a constant basis? Yech.”
“Huh. Not the perspective I’d expect from a scientist.”
“Yeah, but you forget I’m a scientist who focuses mostly on dead things. Human biology was never my strong suit. The human body kind of grosses me out.”
“Well, this should be fun then,” he says with a fair amount of snark.
We reach the pink plexiglass opening.
“You ready?” he says as he gives my hand a squeeze.
“As I’ll ever be.”
“Alright. Here we go!”
We step inside.
“First stop… the right atrium,” Ralph announces. “They call this the front door to the heart. It’s where all the blood first enters and… Sorry. You don’t need me mansplaining this stuff to you.”
“It’s okay actually. I don’t think you could mansplain if you tried.”
“Because I’m so nice, right?” He scoffs.
“I’m sorry about that. I know people are more than just one thing. And if you’re going to be anything, why not be nice, right? I think you just come by it easier than I do. More naturally than I do? Because I’m… not nice. I don’t always think of other people before myself. It’s not that I’m inherently selfish, at least I don’t think so, I just… I’m in my head a lot, always thinking about the next step to get ahead. I’m not used to being around someone who is so… open, like you.”
We explore in silence for a bit. Well, as silent as it can get with the whomp, whomp, whomp sound of the heartbeat pulsing all around.
“Was that you womansplaining to me why you kicked me out last night?”
“I guess so, yeah.” I laugh.
“Thanks.” I duck and just barely miss knocking my head into the aorta. I was too busy watching him to notice where I was going.
I spot a little nook built into the left ventricle.
“Can we sit?”
“Sure.”
A few kids run past, not noticing us tucked in there together.
“I had a dream about you last night,” I say.
“Did you now?”
“Big time.”
“Neat.”
“Neat? All you’re going to say is neat?”
“What am I supposed to say?”
“’What was the dream about? What was I doing in it? Was it a dirty dream? Did your teeth fall out? Was it a drowning dream? One of those dreams when you were naked at school and late for the final exam you never studied for? A pregnancy dream while still being a virgin? An actor’s nightmare where you were playing the lead but never attended a single rehearsal? Were you being chased through the grocery store by a clown with a cleaver? Those are some good starter questions.”
“Wow. You are a very specific person.”
“Aren’t we all?”
“I guess? I think I’ve actually spent most of my life trying to blend in, so…”
“Well, you’re doing a terrible job.”
“What do you mean?”
“Just that when you’re as smart and as brilliantly weird as you are, ain’t no way you’re going to blend in.”
He pauses a moment. Then his lips slowly spread, flashing me those stunning white teeth in the most precious smile. The corners of his eyes are in full-on crinkle mode.
“I mean… What I meant to say was, you’re just sort of kind of—”
“Calliope?” he cuts me off, still smiling.
“Yeah?”
“That may be the sweetest thing you’ve said to me in the brief time I’ve known you. Please don’t backpedal.”
“Okay.”
“Okay.”
“‘You know, sweet isn’t typically what I’m known for.”
“Maybe people haven’t gotten to know you as well as they should then. Because from what I can tell? There’s a whole world inside you.”
I suddenly feel my face getting hot.