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She kisses me then, hard, and I feel the tears on her cheeks. And when we pull away, I brush them off with my thumb.
"What happens if this dinosaur comes out biting?"
She laughs. "I don't know, but I'm dying to see what kind it is."
Our eyes are fixated on the cracking shell. It feels like time has stopped, which is crazy considering I'm not exactly sure what time even means anymore. But this, right here, at the lagoon, with the egg nestled in the sling its mama made, feels like the exact right place for me.
"Oh my God," Fancy says as a tiny claw pushes through the shell, the littlest fingernails you ever did see. And both of us are fucking crying now.
"Is it insane to cry over the birth of a dinosaur?"
"I don't think so, this is incredible."
We watch as a hushed silence falls over the entire jungle. When it has fully emerged from its shell, the baby’s eyes are covered in a thick jelly-like substance. Its whole body is so small, so wrinkly and leathery.
"What species is it?" I ask, desperate to know if this baby is going to become our enemy.
"It's an Ankylosaurus," she says, her voice nothing but a whisper. "Flint, an Ankylosaurus!" She shakes her head, picking up the dinosaur in her hands. It fits there perfectly. Her two palms cradling this tiny creature.
"I feel like I'm missing something," I say, trying to understand why I should know this dinosaur by name.
"That's the dinosaur I was unearthing in the Yucatan jungle," she says. "Flint, this is the dinosaur that we found a million years from now." She shakes her head. "It means this dinosaur is going to grow up and live a full life."
"And where was it found, exactly?" I ask her, scared all of a sudden that it was buried in a pit of lava, or under a pile of rocks, that our fate has already been determined.
"That's what's so crazy," she says. "This dinosaur was buried very thoughtfully. It was fully intact. There were no injuries on it. No bones were broken."
"Wow," I say. "You really were destined to be here. So answer me," I say, "the one question I have."
"Is it a boy or a girl?" she asks.
I shake my head. "Not that one.”
She beams at me, her eyes twinkling with joy. “The good news is Ankylosauruses are herbivores."
"Truly?"
She nods. "Truly. Its wide muzzle," she says, her finger on the dino's nose, "is adapted for non-selective low-growth grazing. He’ll probably eat tough leaves and pulpy fruits, brush and shrubs, kind of like an elephant."
"And as gentle as an elephant too?" I ask.
"Well, unless he senses danger," she says, her hand running down the dinosaur's body to its tail. "This little bulb right here is going to grow into a club. And that club could take out a T. rex."
"Shit," I say. "Really?"
She nods. "Yeah. He’ll be capable of fierceness even though he’s gentle, which will serve us well."
"Until this ankle biter decides to swing at us."
"He won't," Fancy says.
"How can you be so sure?" I ask, scared for what this might mean for us.
"Because he’s our baby," she says.
"You don't think that's a little naive?"
She shakes her head, pressing her lips to the top of the lizard-like creature's head. "No," she says. "I'm not scared. I'm here for a reason, and the reason is in my very hands."
I may not be a religious man, but turns out I certainly believe in miracles, because this right here is one. I run my hand over Fancy's back. "Well, Mama, let's get you home so you can take care of your babe."
She leans close, kissing me deeply. "I love you," she says, "for being on this crazy adventure with me. I know you didn't have much of a choice, but–"
"No, I do have a choice. And right now, Fancy, I choose you."
11
Fancy
I should have expected it, considering how fast I fell in love with Flint. That my feelings for A.B., our nickname for our little ankle biter, our Ankylosaurus, would go the same. He is a spirited little guy, and I say little a bit ironically. He’s the size of a bicycle, and it's only been six months.
Six months of middle-of-the-night feedings and early morning potty breaks, of learning how to train a dinosaur to not stray too far from home even though he's excited to explore the world.
"I'm just nervous," I tell Flint as we stand at the lagoon, the same place where A.B. was born. He's jumped into the water and is swimming around, rolling onto his back, and it's ridiculously cute. "You should get in there with him," I say, "the little guy just needs a buddy."
"Little guy?" Flint says, laughing. "That guy is not so little, Fancy. Are you nervous that he's going to leave home soon?"
