Chapter 4
CHAPTER FOUR
JO
“Good morning, Dippy,” I sing to the dinosaur statue as I pass him on my way into the Carnegie Museum of Natural History where I work, smiling at the Pittsburgh Renegades scarf wrapped around his neck.
“Why are you saying good morning to a statue?” The voice halts me in my tracks, and I turn to see a little boy who looks to be around six, wearing jeans, a T-shirt, and a blue backpack. Smiling, I crouch down so I can look him in the eye, setting my bag and coffee cup on the ground.
“Hi, I’m Jo. What’s your name?”
“Evan.” He puts his little hands on his hips and eyes me.
“It’s really nice to meet you, Evan. That’s not just a statue; that’s Dippy. He’s a Diplodocus carnegii dinosaur. I say hi to him every morning because he’s the first thing I see when I get to work, and he’s very cool. Did you know, if you go inside the museum, you can see a whole entire skeleton of that very same dinosaur? It’s one of the most famous dinosaur skeletons in the entire world.”
“Seriously?” he asks.
I nod. “Seriously. This museum has a huge collection of dinosaur bones. More than almost any other museum in the world, and it’s right here in Pittsburgh.”
The boy’s eyes go wide, and he turns around to look at a woman who I assume is his mom. “Can we go see them?”
She smiles and nods at him. “Of course we can, but you have school today. If you want, we can come on Saturday.”
“Yes!” he exclaims, whipping back around as the woman mouths thank you to me.
I nod at her and dig around in my bag until I find one of the little Dippy figures I make a habit of carrying around, handing it to the boy. “Here’s a Dippy for you to keep until you can come back to the museum and see the real thing inside.”
“I can have it?” he asks, voice filled with awe. God, I just freaking love kids.
“You sure can. I have to go to work now, but I know you’re going to have an excellent day. Every day that starts with Dippy is a great day.”
“Thank you so much,” the woman says quietly as I stand. “We just moved to Pittsburgh a couple weeks ago, and he’s had a rough transition, especially on school days. You made his day.”
“Anytime,” I say, digging back into my bag, unearthing a business card and handing it to her. “I’m Jo Evans, the program director at the museum. I work on Saturdays, so if you drop me an email and let me know when you’re coming, I can give you guys a special tour of some of the cool stuff going on behind the scenes. There’s also a kids’ science class on Saturday mornings at ten. It’s a fun place to meet people if he’s looking for some friends. We get a lot of regulars.”
“Thank you; that would be amazing. I appreciate you taking the time like this.”
“Of course, I’m happy to. I hope I’ll see you guys on Saturday. Have a good day at school Evan.” I wave and make my way into the museum, already loving everything about this day.
I started working here in the special events department right after college, and I fell in love with every single inch of the museum. Over the years, I’ve held a handful of different jobs here, but I’m most proud of the position I’ve held for the last three, running all of the museum’s programs. It’s fun, challenging, and different every single day, which I adore. As I walk through the dinosaur exhibit on my way to my office, I can’t help but grin up at the towering fossils because it really never ceases to amaze me that I get to come to work here every day.
“Hey, Jo,” my boss Barb calls when I push through the glass doors to the staff offices. “Come see me once you get settled, okay?”
“No problem,” I call back.
I toss my bag on my chair and set my coffee cup on my desk—my version of settling in—and then make my way to Barb’s office.
I knock on the doorframe and give her my sweetest smile. “Am I in trouble? Did someone complain again about their kid being covered in paint from Science Saturday? If it helps, you can tell them I was covered in paint, too, and I had to wash my hair three times to de-yellow it. But honestly, they’re kids. They’re supposed to be dirty and covered in paint.”
She chuckles and motions me in. “Get in here.”
I flop down in the chair in front of her desk and grab the magnetic fidget toy she has sitting on the edge, running it through my fingers. “So, what’s up?”
“I had an interesting call last week.”
“Good, interesting, or Jo, you need to find another job interesting?”
Barb studies me. “Why do you always think you’re in trouble?”
I shrug. “I mean, I know I’m good at my job, but my programs tend to be way, way outside the box, I’m not that much better than the kids when it comes to keeping my shirts clean, and I only wear sneakers to work.” I’m generally unapologetic about my love of pink Converse, my distaste for any kind of corporate looking wardrobe, and my absolute inability to look on anything but the bright side. But I also understand that what makes me really good at getting on a kid’s level doesn’t always make me the most professional employee.
Barb settles back in her chair. “Jo, you’re incredible at your job, and your outside the box programs are why we’re sitting here right now. The call I got was from the head of youth programming at the American Museum of Natural History in New York.”
“Seriously? What did they want?”
“You. They want you, Jo.”
I sit straight up. I went to college in New York, and the American Museum of Natural History is one of my favorite places in the city. “What do you mean they want me?”
“Apparently, Monica Moreno, their head of youth programming, has been following what you’ve been doing here for the last few years, particularly the breadth of children’s programming you have brought to the museum.”
The kids’ programs are my absolute biggest accomplishment so far from my time as program director. While the museum has always run sporadic programs for kids, I implemented a full schedule of regular after school classes, weekend programming, summer camps, and week-long camps for school vacations. They cover all different topics, interests, and age ranges, and I worked closely with the development department to make sure they would be available to any kid who wanted to come, regardless of their caregiver’s ability to pay. I also worked with the Pittsburgh school district to provide bussing for kids to come here after school, and I connected with local restaurants to provide meals and snacks.
It was a massive undertaking and probably made me some enemies since I refused to compromise on all kinds of different things, but the result is that hundreds of kids are learning about history and science in a safe place for them to let their imaginations run wild.
“So do they need advice on how to set up their own programs or something?”
“Not exactly.” Barb leans forward and crosses her arms over her desk. “They want you to set up their programs for them.”
I furrow my brow, trying to figure this out. “How would I do that from here? Setting up these programs is kind of a boots-on-the-ground situation.”
“She knows. She wants you to come to New York for three months—from Memorial Day to Labor Day—for the sole purpose of creating there exactly what you did here. In addition, while you’re there, she wants you to write a manual that she can offer to other natural history museums around the country who want to do the same thing.”
I blow out a breath, trying to absorb all of this information. “But the programs belong to this museum. Do we really want to be giving them out?”
Barb shrugs and takes a sip of her coffee. “I had that same thought, and I decided I don’t care. Jo, what you have done here is incredible. Kids who never would have had the opportunity to visit the museum for a million different reasons now get to come here and learn. They get to meet other kids, and they get to interact with the museum in a way that’s accessible to them. It’s life-changing, and imagine how many more kids’ lives can be changed if you teach other museums how to do what you did?”
She’s not wrong, but my brain is struggling to process everything that is happening right now. “How would it even work? Where would I live? What happens to my job here? Are you still my boss, or do I have a new boss? Will she make me wear heels? They’re fancier in Manhattan. They might not be quite so cool about my penchant for pink Converse and earrings shaped like dinosaurs.”
Barb laughs, well used to the way my brain works. “Let’s take this one step at a time. First of all, you would technically still work here, you would just be on loan to New York. They offered to cover your salary for the three months you’ll be there, but your benefits would still run through here, so nothing will really change except for the name on your direct deposit. They’ll provide you with an apartment on the Upper West Side of Manhattan near the museum and a bunch of benefits, including things like a stipend for subway rides.”
I steeple my hands, tapping my fingers on my chin as I consider all of this. “What happens to my programs here? I can’t run them from New York.”
“Nothing will happen to them. You’ve already done all the major planning for the summer camps, and I’ll run them while you’re gone. We have a really good team here, and we can get the fall programs set up, so when you’re back, you’ll just slide right back in, and it’ll be like you never left.”
Except I will have left. For three months. An entire summer back in New York, doing the thing I love most in the world, in one of my favorite places. Both personally and career wise, it feels exactly right. And I’m a person who puts a lot of stock in what feels right.
“It’s okay if you need some time to think about it. It’s a big decision,” Barb says, breaking me out of my thoughts.
“I don’t. Need time to think about it, that is. I’ll do it.”
Barb gives me a wide smile. “I was hoping you would say that.”
“You were?”
“Of course, I was. I mean, I’ll miss you for the summer, but, Jo, I’ve known you since you were a brand-new college grad in an entry level position here, in charge of kids’ birthday parties. You are smart, dedicated, and absolutely brilliant at your job. This is an amazing career opportunity, and I want you to have this experience.”
I grin broadly, already making a mental list of everything I want to do this summer in New York. “Barb, you’re the best.”
“Will you still think I’m the best when I tell you I’ll need you to spend the next six weeks before you leave creating a file of everything we’ll need to know to run the summer camps? I know the planning is mostly done, but I want to make sure everything is in one place.”
I scoff. “Do you not know me at all? It’s already in one place. I have an If Jo Gets Hit By a Truck file.”
Barb coughs out a laugh. “Excuse me?”
I shrug. “I didn’t want the kids ever to miss out if something happened to me or if I couldn’t be here for some reason. I made sure everything was well documented so you could step into my shoes if you had to. And, well, I guess now you have to.”
Barb shakes her head, giving me an incredulous look. “You’re one of a kind, Jo Evans. I’m going to miss the shit out of you.”
I grin at her again. “Oh, I know. I’m extremely missable.”
* * *
Later that afternoon, I dance out of the museum. Standing in the courtyard outside the entrance, I close my eyes and tip my face up to the sky, loving how the spring afternoon sun feels on my skin.
What an amazing fucking day.
Opening my eyes, I flick my hair behind my shoulders and take it all in. The familiar, weathered sandstone building. Groups of students. Families. The buzzy, excited energy that comes with people and kids on the cusp of an adventure. I know how it feels, because I feel it myself, and what an adventure it will be.
Summer in New York. A shimmer of excitement runs through my veins.
Making my way through to the street while mentally planning an afternoon shopping trip—because, hello, three months in New York—I stop short when I see a familiar figure on a bench just outside the crowds, staring up at the museum.