The Undiscovered Skeleton

He had Sundays off. He was free to do as he liked and he liked doing the same thing.

He would go to the museum and inspect the minerals and gemstones. The exhibits rarely changed and he took great comfort in this.

The museum was vast, open-planned and usually quiet - even on a Sunday.

It was air-conditioned and familiar and he felt like he knew himself when he was there. He would always buy a coffee and cake combo for five dollars.

Sara always served him; she knew his name and shared his passion for minerals and gemstones, especially the opals.

She was busy most of the time but they always found a few moments to catch up as she made the coffee and prepared the cake.

She asked him if he had seen the new Diplodon skeleton. He said he had seen the poster but had no interest in looking at dead things.

When his uncle died, he refused to view him in the open casket; he preferred to remember him as he was when he was alive. She insisted on showing him the Diplodon and he reluctantly went with her.

The skeleton was an immense collection of bones; the rib cage reminded him of a church organ.

Sunday again. He ironed his pants and put on his new shirt. The cologne stung and he wondered if it was too much. His experience with girls was limited but Sara seemed different.

She was on a break and he found her outside on the curb, sipping a coffee and eating cake.

She pretended she was okay and they swapped some small talk. Her mother was sick with the new virus. He had no advice to give so he listened attentively.

He hated to see her hurting and suggested she leave for the day to go home and rest. She said she needed the money to move far away, across the sea.

He said things would turn around soon, even though he had no idea if they would. She smiled and said he was sweet.

He asked if there was anything he could do for her. She smiled and said he could steal the big opal from the main cabinet for her. He smiled back and said he’d see what he could do.

The creek bed was dry just like the old man had said. He took off his rucksack and set up camp.

Dinner was pasta in a packet - it reminded him of camping with his uncle and he found himself talking aloud as if his uncle was with him.

He would wind up his radio and listen to news of the evacuation. He dug several holes around the water line like the old man had said, occasionally curious wallabies would hop out of the bush and watch him fossick.

At night, he watched the stars blink on and off and he asked them if he was digging in the rights spots.

The old man had said the opals were out there but if he knew exactly where he would not be selling maps at a petrol station. He kept digging; he would give it two more days and then return home.

There had to be opals somewhere, he had seen a show on television about them being there. The stars at night seemed to rain down, falling in streaks of light.

Every which way he looked at the bush it looked the same. His water was running low and he hadn’t eaten in two days.

The path had long since disappeared and the wallabies stopped hopping by. The radio signal was dead and it emitted only a low hum.

When he sat his mind span so he tried to stand for as long as he could.

He propped himself up in the fork of an old gum tree, listening to the droning hum.

He thought of Sara and her coffee and cake. He thought of the Diplodon skeleton and wondered how long it would be until he was discovered.