Brigits_Flame entry for Jan, Week 1, Angels.
“Taking another break?” Lowe asks as I enter the trailer. I close the door behind me, deliberately, carefully, making sure every ounce of that Arizona heat is left beyond the doors.
I flash him a weary smile, slide into a seat across from him, and watch as he swirls the water in his glass. “I see you’re working hard.”
“Harder than ever.” He pours me a glass, and sets it on the table. “Drink up before you get dehydrated. You know how this place is.”
“Heh. Unfortunately.”
He’s lounging, now. “Any new finds?”
I take a sip. I feel like I swallowed at least a teaspoon of dust in the process. This amateur archaeology thing is getting old.
“Nothing,” I say.
“Nothing? I heard your intern found something.” A smile tugs at the corner of his mouth, and I know what's coming.
“Yeah, right. A lost civilization, apparently. That girl brought a canine jawbone to me and thought it was human. Human, Lowe. I can’t handle her.”
He laughs. Always the good-natured one. And here I am, bitter and annoyed and scheduled to work on this damned project, and I was stuck with an intern. I sighed. “When will the specialists come in?”
“The physical anthropologists? Tomorrow morning.”
“Good,” I say. “They can tell her how stupid she is for the jawbone nonsense. That’s not even my area, and I still knew more than her.”
Lowe rolls his eyes, and leaned across the table. “Cara,” he said, seriously.
“Yeah?”
He smiles. “You were her, fifteen years ago. You made mistakes, you were eager, you-“
“-believed in UFOs and ghosts and God, I know, and I was the worse for it,” I finished.
Lowe takes another resigned sip. “Look, Cara. All I’m trying to say is that you shouldn’t be so hard on her. Give her a chance. Okay?”
I straighten my shirt. I can see wrinkles already forming near my stomach. “I’ll work on it,” I say. With that, I rise to my feet, down the glass, and head back into the Arizona heat.
Today will be easier, if only because the physical anthropologists have arrived, and I know I won’t be the only one telling my intern all she finds are dog jaws and rabbit bones. Besides, now we can actually do some “digging.”
I’m on another of my frequent breaks; I’m not meant for this. Michigan left me prepared for snow, sleet, rain, hail, all at the flip of a coin-anything put this vicious, persistent sun.
I’m about to pour my third glass when I see my intern, bolting across the dig site towards me. She’s grinning, ridiculously.
“Cara!” Her arms are pink and flailing. They’d be red like mine after a few more days in the relentless sun. “CARA!”
“God dammit,” I mutter. Then, louder: “What is it?”
“We-we found-“ She skids to a halt before me, gasping. “Cara, we-“
She’s still flushed and gasping, so I wait. I’d consider my patience infinite by now.
“Come see,” she says, finally. “Cara, come here. You need to see this.”
“Another dog bone?” I couldn’t resist.
Her face barely registers the insult. “No, I mean it. Come here.”
I set down my glass and slide the pitcher back into the cooler. “All right. I’m coming.”
I feel the bite of the morning sun the moment I step out of the trailer. The heat strips my patience, my confidence, and I can almost feel my skin peeling already. It’s a short walk to the dig site, but by the time I’m there, I am sick of this.
There are at least six other people hovering around one area, and most of them look excited. It would be infectious if I wasn’t already so tired of this.
“Cara,” Lowe says, turning to me with a familiar grin. “We’ve got it!”
“Hm? Let me see-“ And I push through the crowd, and I look into the dirt, and for the first time in my career, I feel a flutter somewhere deep inside me.
This is no dog skeleton, no desert rabbit carcass. This was definitely human. My intern is looking pretty smug, and Lowe can hardly contain himself.
“Do you see this?” he asks, twisting his fingers together, repeatedly. “It’s not normal, that’s for sure, and, I mean, we don’t know for sure, yet, but-“
I push past him, gravitating towards a balding biologist who is speaking with a heavy German accent, pointing at the skeleton’s spine.
“Look, look,” he says. I follow his gaze, the beeline of his fingertip, and I see it. There, folded against the dusty spine, are two tiny sets of bones, long and fragile, like fingers.
My intern turns to me with wide eyes.
“Cara. Cara,” she breathes. “Wings.”
It’s 3am and I am sitting on the edge of my cot, shivering despite the heat. I can’t stop thinking about today. What I saw. The looks of confusion on the expert’s faces, the look of complete certainty on my intern’s. This time, there was no one to discredit her.
I start chewing my middle fingernail, slowly, tearing the exposed portion of the nail at one corner and pulling the rest off with my other fingers. I taste dirt, sand, dry earth. Sick.
Lowe’s silhouette stirs across the trailer.
He believed it, too. I knew my intern would be the first to assume, but I’d hoped it was just a fluke, maybe a bird died beside him, but that was silly, and the spine had indents where the wings fit, perfectly, and-
“What if it’s real?” he asks, suddenly. Quietly. “What if…”
I stop chewing my fingernails. “I know. I know, okay? But they’ll take it back to the lab, and it’ll all be some horrendous misunderstanding. Okay?” I wasn’t even convincing myself.
“And if it’s not?”
I shiver, again. My eyes stray out the window, to the barren, monochromatic landscape before me. I don’t want to think about the possibility of our discovery. The possibility that, maybe, all those silly things I used to believe in when I was a college freshman were real…
“This is crazy,” I whisper, and lay back down into my cot.
I try to sleep, but it’s not the first time the Arizona heat has kept me awake. This time, the air feels heavier, the night quieter, broken only by the steady cadence of my heart and my breath, shallow, and terrified.
I flash him a weary smile, slide into a seat across from him, and watch as he swirls the water in his glass. “I see you’re working hard.”
“Harder than ever.” He pours me a glass, and sets it on the table. “Drink up before you get dehydrated. You know how this place is.”
“Heh. Unfortunately.”
He’s lounging, now. “Any new finds?”
I take a sip. I feel like I swallowed at least a teaspoon of dust in the process. This amateur archaeology thing is getting old.
“Nothing,” I say.
“Nothing? I heard your intern found something.” A smile tugs at the corner of his mouth, and I know what's coming.
“Yeah, right. A lost civilization, apparently. That girl brought a canine jawbone to me and thought it was human. Human, Lowe. I can’t handle her.”
He laughs. Always the good-natured one. And here I am, bitter and annoyed and scheduled to work on this damned project, and I was stuck with an intern. I sighed. “When will the specialists come in?”
“The physical anthropologists? Tomorrow morning.”
“Good,” I say. “They can tell her how stupid she is for the jawbone nonsense. That’s not even my area, and I still knew more than her.”
Lowe rolls his eyes, and leaned across the table. “Cara,” he said, seriously.
“Yeah?”
He smiles. “You were her, fifteen years ago. You made mistakes, you were eager, you-“
“-believed in UFOs and ghosts and God, I know, and I was the worse for it,” I finished.
Lowe takes another resigned sip. “Look, Cara. All I’m trying to say is that you shouldn’t be so hard on her. Give her a chance. Okay?”
I straighten my shirt. I can see wrinkles already forming near my stomach. “I’ll work on it,” I say. With that, I rise to my feet, down the glass, and head back into the Arizona heat.
Today will be easier, if only because the physical anthropologists have arrived, and I know I won’t be the only one telling my intern all she finds are dog jaws and rabbit bones. Besides, now we can actually do some “digging.”
I’m on another of my frequent breaks; I’m not meant for this. Michigan left me prepared for snow, sleet, rain, hail, all at the flip of a coin-anything put this vicious, persistent sun.
I’m about to pour my third glass when I see my intern, bolting across the dig site towards me. She’s grinning, ridiculously.
“Cara!” Her arms are pink and flailing. They’d be red like mine after a few more days in the relentless sun. “CARA!”
“God dammit,” I mutter. Then, louder: “What is it?”
“We-we found-“ She skids to a halt before me, gasping. “Cara, we-“
She’s still flushed and gasping, so I wait. I’d consider my patience infinite by now.
“Come see,” she says, finally. “Cara, come here. You need to see this.”
“Another dog bone?” I couldn’t resist.
Her face barely registers the insult. “No, I mean it. Come here.”
I set down my glass and slide the pitcher back into the cooler. “All right. I’m coming.”
I feel the bite of the morning sun the moment I step out of the trailer. The heat strips my patience, my confidence, and I can almost feel my skin peeling already. It’s a short walk to the dig site, but by the time I’m there, I am sick of this.
There are at least six other people hovering around one area, and most of them look excited. It would be infectious if I wasn’t already so tired of this.
“Cara,” Lowe says, turning to me with a familiar grin. “We’ve got it!”
“Hm? Let me see-“ And I push through the crowd, and I look into the dirt, and for the first time in my career, I feel a flutter somewhere deep inside me.
This is no dog skeleton, no desert rabbit carcass. This was definitely human. My intern is looking pretty smug, and Lowe can hardly contain himself.
“Do you see this?” he asks, twisting his fingers together, repeatedly. “It’s not normal, that’s for sure, and, I mean, we don’t know for sure, yet, but-“
I push past him, gravitating towards a balding biologist who is speaking with a heavy German accent, pointing at the skeleton’s spine.
“Look, look,” he says. I follow his gaze, the beeline of his fingertip, and I see it. There, folded against the dusty spine, are two tiny sets of bones, long and fragile, like fingers.
My intern turns to me with wide eyes.
“Cara. Cara,” she breathes. “Wings.”
It’s 3am and I am sitting on the edge of my cot, shivering despite the heat. I can’t stop thinking about today. What I saw. The looks of confusion on the expert’s faces, the look of complete certainty on my intern’s. This time, there was no one to discredit her.
I start chewing my middle fingernail, slowly, tearing the exposed portion of the nail at one corner and pulling the rest off with my other fingers. I taste dirt, sand, dry earth. Sick.
Lowe’s silhouette stirs across the trailer.
He believed it, too. I knew my intern would be the first to assume, but I’d hoped it was just a fluke, maybe a bird died beside him, but that was silly, and the spine had indents where the wings fit, perfectly, and-
“What if it’s real?” he asks, suddenly. Quietly. “What if…”
I stop chewing my fingernails. “I know. I know, okay? But they’ll take it back to the lab, and it’ll all be some horrendous misunderstanding. Okay?” I wasn’t even convincing myself.
“And if it’s not?”
I shiver, again. My eyes stray out the window, to the barren, monochromatic landscape before me. I don’t want to think about the possibility of our discovery. The possibility that, maybe, all those silly things I used to believe in when I was a college freshman were real…
“This is crazy,” I whisper, and lay back down into my cot.
I try to sleep, but it’s not the first time the Arizona heat has kept me awake. This time, the air feels heavier, the night quieter, broken only by the steady cadence of my heart and my breath, shallow, and terrified.