The Reward
NERO
We persist.
We love.
We are.
“Hey, Nero?”
“Hm?” I looked up from my work on the outgoing Chinese collection that the museum would be passing on to its next destination, since our new exhibit was set to be finished with its installation tonight.
It was my job as a conservator to ensure that every artifact that had been displayed left our museum in the same—or better—condition than how it arrived.
Some of the fabrications I had helped craft to enhance the old exhibit would be stored away for potential future use, some of it trashed, and some… well.
Some would end up in my apartment, and my fiancé, Merry, would simply have to put up with it. He always did. He might mock me incessantly over it, but only in play, never really like he minded my love of all things ancient that might have otherwise been forgotten if not preserved.
My papercraft clouds, inspired by Chinese paintings, might not be ancient themselves, but they still represented the cultures and times I loved. Plus, they would look super cool hanging from our living room ceiling.
“I don’t suppose you could finish the Egyptian walkthrough for me?” Amy asked with a sheepish bite at her lip. “So I can slip out early to meet Kevin?”
My stomach sank. I had a ton more work left to do on prepping the outgoing Chinese pieces, and finalizing the new installation was her job. If I had to finish what I was working on and complete her work for her, I’d never be done in time for when Merry came to pick me up.
It wasn’t our anniversary or anything, but we were going out for a nice dinner in celebration of it being only three more months until our wedding day.
Merry’s actual name was Merriman, which was so antiquated and unique, it basically made up our meet cute. I had heard his name called at our local coffee shop, and when he picked up his order, I’d had to meet him, despite not having ordered my own coffee yet.
“That cannot be your real name?”
“’Fraid so,” he’d said.
“Merriman? And it’s your first name?”
“It is.” He’d chuckled, he told me later because of my excitement, but I was pretty sure he thought I was a nerd. Thankfully, he liked nerds.
“The only other person I’ve ever heard of who had that name was Merriman Smith, the journalist—”
“Who won a Pulitzer for his coverage of the JFK assassination.”
My eyes had lit up that he actually knew that. “It wasn’t even his real first name—”
“It was his middle name, yeah. I know that too.”
I was basically in love already at that point, but realized I didn’t know what else to say. “You don’t, um… shorten it to anything?”
“In private company, I do. But when I tell baristas Merry, my coffee tends to walk off with a soccer mom.”
I’d laughed, and he’d laughed, so captivatingly beautiful, both his voice and his… everything, further enhanced by him actually knowing his history, that when he asked, “Need me to treat you to yours, and then maybe you can buy me dinner later?” I hadn’t been able to say no.
Two years later, we had our date set to make this official.
“Please, Nero,” Amy begged upon my obvious hesitation.
“Amy…”
“Pleeeeease? I will owe you so big this time.”
She owed me for about a million other times, but I was such a sucker for a good love story, and I knew Kevin was a far better man for her than the last dozen dirtbags she’d been with. The thought of helping someone else achieve their happily ever after always made me weak in the knees.
I could finish my work in the morning, I supposed, if I came in an hour early. The shipment wasn’t going out until noon.
“Fine,” I conceded.
“Yes! You are the best!” She flung herself at me, wrapping her arms around my neck in a sloppy hug that nearly caused me to drop the tool I’d been using to clean the last of the Year of the Horse Zodiac figurines. Thankfully, I didn’t, or the heaviness of my brush might have chipped something.
“Okay!” I said with a strained laugh. “Just be aware that the closer we get to my wedding day, the more I am going to cash in some of these favors.”
“Deal!” Amy giggled as she released me. “And sometime soon, how about a double date? My treat!”
“Definite deal,” I said. Only as soon as she darted off to make her rendezvous for tonight, I started going over in my head just how much I had to do. Hopefully, a final walkthrough really was all the new installation needed.
Since I was at least finished with the last of the Zodiac figurines, I carefully packed it away with the others and set all my cleaning tools aside to finish the rest of this in the morning—which meant I could not allow Merry to talk me into a third and fourth cocktail again.
I probably still would, but I’d have to be up at the crack of dawn the next morning, regardless.
It was nearing closing time, and somewhere around the museum was our head curator, Mr. Setterfield.
If he noticed I was doing Amy’s job for her again, she might get in trouble, so I’d have to do some creative thinking if I ran into him.
Last call to finish up in the gift shop and head toward the exits had already gone over the speaker system, warning patrons that they had less than half an hour left, but even if Merry arrived after closing, the security guards all knew him well enough to let him slip in.
On nights like this, when it was quiet and I didn’t see Setterfield around anywhere as I left the back rooms, I liked to pretend that I had already achieved my dream of becoming head curator.
Working for this particular museum was already part of my dream job, but I wanted to run things.
I wanted the museum to be mine. It was strange, but the idea of having something that I made all the decisions for, being in charge of what I loved most, thrilled me like few things could.
Sure, I worried sometimes that I’d miss the day to day. I loved the detailed “boring” work of cleaning a piece, cataloguing it, and further acquainting myself with its history. But who was to say I’d lose that? I could still get my hands dirty once in a while. I’d be in charge! I’d truly, finally…
Be my own master.
Huh. Just thinking that almost gave me chills.
What really made my hair stand on end, however, was when I reached the currently off-limits area for the new installation and drew back the curtain to reveal the Ennead that made up its entrance.
Some people thought the Ennead referred to the Egyptian pantheon, and it did, but it was complicated.
It actually could mean any group of nine of them, in any combination.
While Amy had been in charge of installing the displays, I had done the fabrication for the entrance piece.
I’d had to. I wasn’t the only person who could do fabrications, but I had begged to do that one, almost like I was compelled to.
The archway itself was made of paper mache to look like rocks, like the caverns of the underworld, and above, which patrons would need to pass under to enter the exhibit, was carved and painted foamcore boards to depict Amun-Ra sailing his night boat through the underworld’s depths to reach the next morning and bring the sun.
Upon the boat were nine deities I had chosen myself, some being obvious to include, like Ra, and others maybe a little strange to have appear together.
At the front of the boat, in order, were Anubis, Ptah, Geb, and then Amun-Ra in a sort of captain’s chair in the middle.
Behind him were Seth, Horus, Thoth, and Osiris.
Finally, at the very back, on the stern, was Bastet in the form not of a human-sized figure like the other deities, but presented as a household cat.
Or maybe she was the lioness goddess; I hadn’t decided for sure and had left it up to interpretation.
Merry would say I had fashioned her after our own cat, but I honestly hadn't even thought that until I was finished.
Shaking myself from the reverie of just how good it looked, including how well Amy had installed it, I decided I didn’t have to be too cross with her for begging me to finish the walkthrough.
In fact, once I got inside and started looking around, she hadn’t completely thrown me under the bus.
I’d still need to come in early to finish my other work, but everything looked pretty solid at a glance.
I might even be able to get this done before Merry’s arrival.
I certainly intended to do that, but I was so enraptured by this particular exhibit, I kept getting distracted by reading the signposts that explained each artifact.
I was supposed to read them, at least in passing, to ensure they were all in the right places, but I kept lingering.
Egyptian history and mythology was one of my favorite subjects and had even inspired the only tattoo I’d ever gotten.
The feather of Ma’at, a symbol of truth, balance, and justice, outlined in blue on my left forearm.
I loved the pieces in this collection too.
Whether a lotus drinking cup, a dancer's belt, an ivory comb, even a scroll of some unknown author’s love poems. Maybe especially that.
I wasn’t so adept with Egyptian culture as to be fluent in reading hieroglyphics without a key, but one of the translations was printed on the signpost.
Bound though we may be,
let us bind our hearts to each other
with winding cords—
No, I didn’t have time to sit here and read the whole thing. I needed to get into gear.
But wait. The scroll wasn’t in its case! Amy had wanted to reinforce its protective covering to more safely hang it inside the glass, but she must have forgotten to return it. Where was it?
I started my search by looking around at the nearby displays, like our fabricated sarcophagus. We had a real sarcophagus as part of the exhibit too, but that was far too fragile to display upright like this. Had she set it behind—
“Care to dance?” a sultry voice whispered.