Chapter Four: Tour For One

Slapping his clipboard onto the ledge of the exhibit, Dr. Feinman thrust the screwdriver in Laura Dell’s direction. The sound bounced off the glass and the startled young boy darted away from them. Gripping the cold handle of what she thought to be her newest failure, Laura Dell bent towards the case.

Dr. Feinman snapped, “This was your mistake, now you fix it.” 
 She felt words forming in the back of her throat and stammered, “B-b-but Dr-”

Before giving her words a chance to make an appearance he shot back, “I expect to meet you in my office 15 minutes before closing.” Turning on the heels of his gleaming Oxford shoes, he nodded and said, “Dr. Walters, enjoy the exhibit.”

Laura Dell felt her shoulders sink as she watched Dr. Feinman click his way back through the hallway. She lifted the glass plate holding the two fossils and began to work with the bolts holding the incorrect label. Laura Dell knew her cheeks matched the bright red letters of the labels she turned in her hands when Dr. Walters shuffled toward her.

Sliding the names into their proper places, Dr. Walters said “I wonder what Messelornis fossil is stuck up his ass.” He began to chuckle at his own geological humor when he heard her wince after the end of his comment.

“Oh sorry. I guess you’re not used to that kind of uh,” he paused, “crudeness in Siloam but after sitting around a place like this for such a long time you’ve got to get your kicks in somewhere.”

Laura Dell watched him rub the back of his wrinkled neck and replied, “I’d have to guess the vertebrae.”

His shoulders shook with laughter and between stifled chuckles said, “Ah well then, Miss. Dell. How about you give me that grand tour you promised earlier?”

She closed the glass over the fossils and said, “Sure thing, Dr. I mean, sir.” Dr. Walter's smile cracked through his face and gestured for her to lead the way.

* * *

Laura Dell guided her tour for one towards the long mural that extended throughout the exhibit. She pointed to the beginning of the artist’s representation of the period littered with Placoderm fish and various marine life.

Laura Dell glanced to Dr. Walters and began, “This depiction of the Pre-Cambian era shows the progression of life up to the Neogene period. An interesting point to note is the artist took fossils from this particular collection to render her artistic interpretation of their original appearance. The fossils we have here link back to a plethora of mammals, even though they continued to be less in number when compared to the bird population. This particular exhibit also highlights the Pristichampsus, Paraceratherium, and- ” Dr. Walters waved his hand as if to signal a cue to pause and pointed his cane to mural.

Tapping the word Cenozoic he said, “Do you know what this means in Greek?”

Laura Dell shrugged her shoulders and said “The only foreign language I took in college was Spanish.”

“Ah,” he said, “Escucha esto amiga.” Laura Dell grinned and waited for him to continue.

Underlining the word with his cane Dr. Walters stated, “It simply means ‘new life’ or ‘kainos zoe’.

Laura Dell wondered to herself if this was her own Cenozoic period and said, “Dr. Walters, can I ask you something?”

Finding his way to a near by bench, he replied, “I don’t know, can you?”

Laura Dell couldn’t hide her grin and he continued, “You’re probably wondering why an old fart like me comes to a place like this day after day to correct the grammar of interns?” Laura Dell hesitated and thought if she was crossing some imaginary line of politeness that her mother taught her not to leap over as a child. Shaking off her mother’s voice of do’s and don’ts, she nodded her head in reply.

* * *

Both Dr. Walters and Laura Dell took their seats next to one another on the bench. He turned to face her and folded his jacked over his arms. Rubbing his worn fingers over the crest on the front pocket he said, “When I was a kid I remember in school everyone going around the class room answering the teacher’s question of what we wanted to be when we grew up. I listened to my classmates say things like ‘A Firefighter!’, ‘A Cheerleader!’, and ‘A Doctor!’ As soon as it was my turn I answered ‘Paleontologist!’ I remember the teacher looking at me with disbelief as she said ‘Do you even know what that means?’ I looked her square in the eye and said ‘Yes I do. You dig up dinosaur bones.’ Even before I had a past of my own I knew that history captivated me."

Laura Dell remembered her own history and her father’s absence from it. Standing there in the exhibit she returned to a memory that was more familiar to her than the streets of Chicago. Ever since her father’s death, she made a point to visit the cemetery with its winding oaks at least once a month. Her first visit to his grave was not as calm as the one two days before she left for the internship. Sometimes she tried to forget the vivid feeling of her hands pulling at the grass while fighting with her her tears that soaked into the red Alabama clay. The dirt clung to the knees of her jeans and the stain continued to remain regardless of her Clorox therapy. Since then each visit to the shaded cemetery had had its differences. Laura Dell started to notice the people who whispered as they walked the graveside path for exercise. She knew it was strange to go there to talk to someone that couldn’t hear you, at least that is what the speed-walkers thought in their calico-colored wind suits, but it did not matter. Laura Dell would sit in the freshly cut grass of the summer and tell him everything they used to say over their Saturday morning Cheerios. She imagined him sitting across from her nodding and laughing through his cup of pulp-free orange juice. If she were back in Siloam she was certain this month’s conversation would include Chicago and the scholar who visited the museum every day. Laura Dell knew what it felt like to replace the feeling of his warm hand over hers for the cold touch of his name engraved in the granite and wondered if Dr. Walters had a story similar to her own.

* * *

Dr. Walters paused and pushed off the bench to walk towards the Messelornis fossil. Patting the glass he turned to Laura Dell who followed him from their previous stop.

“You see this beauty here. I wrote my dissertation on the Messelornis Cristata. Did you know their bones-”

“are hallow and harder to preserve?” she interrupted him before catching herself.

“Well played Ms. Dell, but I was going to say it connects them to the theory of birds being linked to dinosaurs,” he said while walking to the next display lined with numerous Aves class fossils. The small spotlights of the displays reflected across the cases making a pattern like the veins seen in the wings of the Diatryma. Laura Dell watched as he avoided leaning on his cane.

Dr. Walters continued, “And this one, Ms. Dell, is well done,” and pointed to the Diatryma. “This old bird reminds me of the fieldwork I worked with during my dissertation in France and Germany. We organized an excavation with the University to research the discernment between the Diatryma and their evolutionary similarities to Anseriformes.”

Laura Dell was intrigued by the idea of Mr. Walters on a dig and asked, “What was it like to be on site?”

“Ah well, this should be enough of an explanation,” said Mr. Walters while he walked to a display illustrating different techniques of excavation.

Pointing to the tools laid along the artificial dirt and plastic bones she continued, “I mean, what were your digs like? Was it hot there? Did you ever get tired of the dirt?” She noticed a line of anxiety pass across his face while he twisted his hands together.

He said, “Dirt is something a scientist never tires of and the heat is something you might could imagine coming from Alabama,” while wrinkling the coat in his hands. Small dots of perspiration began to collide across his forehead as he began to say, “Laura, I” but stopped to pull out a cotton handkerchief from his shirt pocket. She imagined him bronze from the foreign sun and sweeping away small crumbs of dust over a preserved Diatryma.

Picturing his colleges slapping him on the back and calling him “Indie”, Laura Dell asked, “What kind of excavation technique did you use?” Dr. Walters shifted his support to his cane and pressed his hand against the sign describing over-cutting and intrusive finds.

“Laura Dell, there’s something I need to-” he began as Eddie bumped into him. Eddie was short of breath and it was apparent he had made quite an effort to reach the exhibit from the main office.

“Oh I’m terribly sorry Dr. Walters,” apologized Eddie while picking up his cane that fell to the floor upon the light impact, “but Laura Dell do you know what time it is?” She grabbed at her wrist to stare into the face of her watch.

“Ten minutes before closing! Ten!” she said and panic spread through her frame. Eddie, with concern folding his forehead, pushed Laura Dell towards the hallway. As she jogged over the tile, Laura Dell saw Dr. Feinman standing with his arms folded across his chest. She slowed her pace to reach the doorway as she heard him say, “You’re late Ms. Dell.”