by Erin Mallon
Mr. Birch emerges from his sex fog with a full-body shake. “Woo! Well, uh. That was, uh… That was not what I intended to, uh—” He turns to Dr. Knowles. “Question: Do you allow your staff to fornicate on the museum premises?”
“No, Mr. Birch, we do not,” she says, her mouth in a tight line.
“Just checking. Because that footage might actually make a wonderful addition to one of your exhibits on prehistoric life and the rise of the Homo sapien. Something to consider!”
“We’ll… keep it in mind. Thank you, Mr. Birch, I think we’re all done here.”
“I know I’m not in the science biz, but as a Homo sapien and a museumgoer myself, I have to say… I found that to be really compelling.”
“Noted. Now, if you don’t mind, we need to—”
“Ooh, you could call it ‘The Caveman Conga.’ No, no, ‘The Dance of Darwin!’ ‘The Evolutionary Two-Step!’ Oh, I got it, I got it. ‘The Brontosaurus Boogie.’
Who knew bumbling little Mr. Birch was a porn producer in the making? I guess the handlebar mustache was a bit of a red flag.
“COULD SOMEONE PLEASE ESCORT MR. BIRCH TO THE EXIT?”
That’s it. It seems Dr. Knowles’ calm exterior has finally cracked. And it only took her trusted intern boinking on the job and ultimately making an adult film and screening it for all her employees.
Bruce steps up yet again, gently takes Mr. Birch’s arm, and guides him out.
Sasha sees a moment to steal focus and delay my inevitable demise. “Hi, everybody! I’m Sasha Prendergast, and I’m representing the team at Spencer Spirits. I’d be happy to take this moment to walk you through how we plan on setting up the bar and introducing you to our sommelier, James—”
“Miss Prendergast, was it?” Dr. Abrams, head of the Astronomy department—the man I met that day in the planetarium when I was ripping Ralph a new one—interrupts her. “Thank you for that. I, for one, could certainly use a drink right now, but we have another pressing matter to tend to first. Ralph?”
Oh God, here it comes.
“Yes, sir?” Ralph says with more calm than I could ever hope to muster at this moment.
“Anything you care to say about what we just witnessed?”
“Yes, sir. I am incredibly embarrassed and deeply sorry for my actions. The way I conducted myself on Saturday evening was…”
“Super hot!” Sasha says on a cough.
“…disrespectful to the museum, to its patrons, and to you, sir. I can assure you it will never happen again. I am ashamed and profoundly apologetic. Sir, this job—”
“Is no longer yours.”
Oh, shit.
“Of course, sir. I understand, sir,” Ralph says quietly and starts moving toward the door.
“Can I say something?” Bruce pipes up.
What on earth could Bruce possibly have to add to this horrifying turn of events?
Dr. Knowles tries to limit the fallout of whatever insanity is about to spill from his mouth. “Bruce, this is not up for discussion. Dr. Abrams’ decision is final. He is well within his bounds as the head of the Astronomy Department to terminate one of his employees who—”
“Sure, sure. I get that,” Bruce says with full seriousness. “But there were two people shooting the meat rocket into the sausage wallet in that video. And Ralph, though his moves were clearly top-notch… cheers, brother!” He offers Ralph a salute while Ralph averts his eyes and stares down at his shoes. “…we all know he was not batter-dipping the corndog alone. No, my friends, he most definitely was not. There was a lady up there engaged in gland to gland combat with him. And if you looked closely, as I most certainly did, you’d see that although she was otherwise completely unclothed, she had one of our trusty Museum of Natural Science lanyards hanging from her neck. Kinky, if you ask me, but to each his, or in this case, her own. In conclusion, that means that Ralph’s pelvic pinochle partner is one of us. Might be here in this very room.”
“Bruce,” Dr. Knowles warns.
“All I’m saying is it would be some serious reverse sexist bullshit if you can this man for doing squat thrusts in the cucumber patch, but you don’t also take down the lady who was riding the baloney pony.”
God. Damn. It.
I knew from day one that Bruce would be the end of me.
“I can’t believe I’m saying this,” Dr. Knowles sighs, “but Bruce has a point. Whoever was… engaged in coital activities with this gentleman here… Bruce, by the way, your knowledge of sexual euphemisms is disturbing—”
“I thank you, ma’am,” he says while tipping an imaginary hat in her direction.
“Whoever that woman was… now is your time to come forward.”
I’m frozen.
I can’t come forward.
I can’t.
I should.
But I can’t.
I’ve worked too hard to get to this point. To finally have a smidge of recognition and trust from Dr. Knowles. Ralph knows that. He understands. Right?
“Ralph,” Dr. Abrams says, “please identify your… partner. Then we can all put this behind us and get back to our work.”
Ralph catches eyes with me for the most minuscule of moments, then looks away.
“Ralph?” Dr. Abrams presses.
“I’m sorry, sir, but no. I won’t do that.”
This man is my hero. I love him. It’s only been a few weeks, but I do. I am head over heels, ass crazy in love with him.
“I VOLUNTEER AS TRIBUTE!” Mabel shouts from the opposite side of the room.
What the hell?
“Miss McGonigle,” Dr. Knowles says. “You were the woman in this video with Mr. Anderson?”
“Ooooooh.” Mabel shudders.
“Excuse me, Miss McGonigle?”
“Ooooh.” Mabel shudders again.
“Miss McGonigle, this is no time to be titillated.”
“Oh, I’m not titillated. I’m terrified. You terrify me.”
“You’re not the first. Did you or did you not have relations with Mr. Anderson on the Museum of Natural Science’s property?”
“Define… relations.” Mabel says, bolder than I’ve ever seen her.
“Miss McGonigle…” Dr. Knowles warns.
“No, no I did not. Ralph is just the kindest, sweetest, gentlest… and he doesn’t deserve to be… and Hunger Games is one of my favorite. THIS IS JUST SO SAD!!!”
Mabel devolves into a mess of tears.
“Well.” Dr. Abrams takes over again. “If no one will come forward and Mr. Anderson refuses to name his accomplice, there is nothing more to be done here. Ralph, your termination is effective immediately. Please go gather your things. I’ll arrange for the museum to send you your official paperwork in the morning. Best of luck in your future.”
“Thank you, sir.”
He thanks him. Ralph actually thanks him.
Then he simply turns and walks out.
My eyes track him, assuming he’ll look back at me one more time, but he doesn’t. He keeps his eyes straight ahead and lets the exhibit hall door close behind him with the softest click.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Bzzzz.
No answer.
I try again.
Bzzzz.
No answer.
He’s gotta be home, right? Where else would he be right now?
I’m standing outside Ralph’s apartment building. I’ve been buzzing his intercom for I don’t know how many minutes to no avail. He’s not answering my texts either. I called him immediately after the gala meeting turned pornographic town hall from hell, but it went straight to voicemail.
Where is he?
I try one more time and really lean into it this time.
Bzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz.
“What?” he f
inally responds, and he doesn’t quite sound like himself.
“Hi! It’s me. I think your buzzer is having issues.”
Silence.
“Let me up?”
I hear the click of the main door disengaging and immediately pull it open. I hustle up three flights to the fourth floor, prepared to knock, but find that he’s left his door ajar for me. I dash through and let it slam shut behind me.
He’s standing in the kitchen, staring at me.
“You’re a dreamboat,” I blurt out. “Such a friggin dreamboat! Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you! God, I love you!”
Launching myself across the room, I kiss the living hell out of him, gratitude coursing through my veins like crazy. I feel nothing but love and adoration for this man at this moment. Gosh, every moment, really.
That’s when I realize how hard his body is against mine. How his arms hang by his side even though mine wrap around him. How his lips barely moved underneath mine as I kissed him.
“Ralphalpha? You okay?”
“Don’t say that.”
“Nuh-uh. No way, dude. You surrendered to Ralphalpha! Ralphalpha is now officially a thing.”
“No. Don’t say that you love me. Because clearly, you don’t.”
“What?” I say with a nervous little laugh.
“You heard me, Calliope.”
“I just mean that you’re awesome, and I really appreciate you and what you did for me was—”
“I’d like you to leave.”
“What?”
“You can continue to stand here saying ‘what,’ like you don’t know what you did, but we both know you’re smarter than that. And we both know, or at least I do, that I deserve better than that.”
He’s never looked at me the way he’s looking at me right now. Stone-faced and steady. No expression. No twinkle in his eye. That smile that is always at the ready for me is nowhere to be seen. It’s breaking my heart. He’s standing right in front of me, but I miss him already.
“I’m so sorry for the way things went down. I really am, I just—”
He waits for me to finish.
I have no idea how.
There’s no excuse for what I did.
“What do you want me to say right now, Ralph?”
“It’s not my job to give you the answers on how to treat people, Calliope.”
“I understand that.”
“Do you?”
“Yes. I know I should have spoken up at that meeting. I just… I froze. I’ve worked so hard to get in Dr. Knowles’ good graces. I saw my position with her this summer slipping away and—”
“Understood. Have a great summer, Calliope.”
He turns and walks toward his bedroom.
“Ralph, I’m sorry, I thought you were protecting me!”
He whips around again to face me.
“When the hell does someone protect me, huh? Take care of me?”
I’m silent because I have absolutely no idea how to respond to that.
“There’s ambitious, and then there’s selfish,” he continues. “They don’t have to go hand in hand. Or actually, you know what? Maybe with you, they do.”
“Ralph, can I please just—?”
“What you can do is shut the door on your way out.”
He heads fully into his room this time.
I hear the soft sound of his lock turning.
I’m left standing alone in his living room, wondering how in the world I’m going to to fix this.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
It’s been eleven days.
Eleven days since I ruined the best thing that’s happened to me in… well, ever.
He won’t see me. Won’t accept my calls. Won’t text me back.
The first few days after everything went down, I showed up daily at his apartment and rang his bell over and over. Somehow, he must have known it was me, though, because he managed to ignore those too. I finally had to stop on the fifth day when his sweet old landlady came out and told me in the kindest way she could that I was making a fool of myself, and I needed to stop harassing her residents right that minute or she’d call the cops.
Yup, I’ve definitely hit a new low.
Everything at the museum reminds me of him. Every little thing that happens during my day, I wish I could share with him.
Like right now, for example. I wish I could tell him how nervous I am as I head toward Dr. Knowles’ office for my weekly performance review. We had to postpone last week’s meeting since she had an out of town conference to attend. I thought that was a lucky break at first, but all it really did was give my nerves lots of extra time to fester before seeing her face-to-face for the first time since what I’m now calling “the event.” I’ve seen her daily at our group Trix and Monty meetings. And I could be crazy, but the looks she’s been giving me seem more intense and scrutinizing than ever before.
Like always, when I am a few feet from her closed door, I hear her say, “Enter.”
Her awareness both amazes and terrifies me.
“Good morning, Dr. Knowles!” I say in the most upbeat tone I can muster. But even I can hear that it falls flat.
“Shoes off. Bag down. Body in chair,” she responds.
“Yes. Okay. Of course.”
I follow her commands like the good little intern I am. Or was. Good little interns don’t screw their secret boyfriend on museum property, then refuse to admit it and watch him take the full blame himself and be fired, do they?
No. They don’t.
We sit in silence a moment while she stares at me. I’ve come to expect this approach from her, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t still unnerving every time.
“New glasses?” she finally asks.
Not at all what I was expecting her to say.
My hands immediately go up to my face. I almost forgot I was wearing them.
“Oh. Yes. I was long overdue for an eye exam and ended up getting some new frames.”
What I don’t tell her is that I prefer my contacts, but with the amount of crying I’ve been doing lately, the frames are just way more practical right now.
“They look nice on you.”
“Thank you. I—” Compliments from Dr. Knowles always fluster me. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. So I take that to mean you can see the photos that are behind me clearly now?”
“Hm?” What is she getting at?
“I noticed you squinting at them the first day you came into my office.”
Damn, nothing gets past her.
“Oh.”
“So, go on. Take a closer look now. What do you see?”
“I see you and your dog and who I’m assuming are your husband and son?”
“Look closer. Do you recognize the husband and son?”
I stand and peer closer, and I think my brain short-circuits.
“Fuck a duck! Is that Lionel?! And Damon?!”
“Interesting turn of phrase…” she murmurs.
“Language! Sorry about that!”
“But yes, Lionel is my husband. And Damon is our son.”
“Wow. I had… I had no idea.”
“We keep things professional while we’re at work. I don’t feel a need to hide them by any means. Anyone who is paying attention can see that we have lunch together nearly every day, but we do keep things professional.”
“This is just… wow.”
“Calliope, when I was younger, I worried that I couldn’t have a powerful career and also have the family I knew in my heart was meant for me and my future. I thought I had to make a choice. But thankfully, that thinking was a load of bunk.”
Bunk. Dr. Knowles just said the word bunk. The surprises just keep coming.
“I thought perhaps you might benefit
from hearing that.”
“Yes, that’s… good to hear, thank you.”
It’s also a bit devastating to hear since I just let the one person I could envision having a future with walk right out of my life.
“You think Lionel and I didn’t do crazy things when we were young?” she asks.
Whaaat? What is happening here?
“Gosh, I-I don’t—”
“You think we don’t still do crazy things?” she continues with a twinkle in her eye that I’ve never seen from her before.
“Really? Lionel?”
“Yes, Lionel!” she says with what I think is mock outrage.
“No offense to you or Lionel! I’m sure your sex life is off the chain! I’ve just never thought about him in that way. Nor should I, right? But I think that’s awesome that you two are—”
“Easy, Miss FitzGerald, we don’t have to continue down this particular path.”
“Oh, thank God,” I say. I can feel my cheeks reddening by the second.
“Calliope, I know it was you in the security footage with Mr. Anderson.”
Oh, holy shit.
“You do?”
“Of course I do.”
Silence. Terror. Confusion.
“Did you… know it was me that day?”
“Of course, I did. Nothing gets past me. Also, all it would take is a quick consult with security records to determine whose badge swiped into the exhibit hall that night.”
“Right.”
Then why didn’t she fire me on the spot?
“Then… why didn’t you fire me on the spot?”
“Listen to what I’m about to say very closely, Calliope. I hate what happened to Mr. Anderson. It may be comforting for you to know that I am speaking to some astronomers that I know about an opportunity that could be right for him moving forward.”
“Really? That’s amazing! Ohmygosh, you have no idea how happy that makes me—”
“But,” she continues, “the sad reality is that the science world can be a beast to women. With or without my help, Mr. Anderson will have many more opportunities throughout his life and career simply because of his gender. You? If we’re not very careful, you may not.” She pauses and looks me directly in the eye. “I wasn’t willing to see your promise get snuffed out simply because of one night of stupid decisions.”