The Painting

Prologue: The Locket - An Locket (Part 2)

Prologue : Part 2

Unit #16 was my first real connection to my mother. My social worker Martha began the ritual of taking me to see the Unit on my seventh birthday. Martha was the first person I knew who indulged me, and she was the one person I'd met who knew my mother. Not personally of course, but what she looked like and what she meant to me. For me that was enough to constitute a real connection and allowed me proper reasoning to constantly bombard Martha with questions about my mother. Most of them I knew she didn't have the answer to but I'd ask anyway just in case. Martha never told me no - not that I'd let her get away with such a simple answer. I didn't believe in yes or no conclusions from a young age, there was always more to the story than just a simple nod or shake of the head.

Growing up in Maine I adored to month of June, not only because of my birthday and when I saw Unit #16, but because if you could avoid the unpredictable rains every moment could be spent outside. My love for the summer months was due not to the sun but to the moon. I lived for warm nights when I could lay in the open air with the moon in all her glory. This behavior more often than not got me in trouble, as I would fall asleep outside causing whoever was caring for me to launch into a panic.

The warmth of the spring day quickly evaporated as Martha led me into the main building painted a sun bleached green. The building was no larger than a storage unit itself except that it had been stretched into a narrow rectangle. A patron needed to only step three feet to reach the desk that backed against the North wall. There was a single window in the back left behind the desk that omitted only a slim shard of light. Under it were the racks of keys for each unit should a customer misplace theirs. The room was lacking any decoration whatsoever and the unwashed walls emitted a grimy feeling that I could tell even Martha picked up as she crossed her arms over her chest subconsciously.

The attendant that sat behind the plain plywood desk hardly noticed our arrival and only looked up from his computer after Martha addressed him directly. He looked bored to say the least and his pasty complexion rendered him almost the same color as the walls surrounding him, I wondered if the slim window was the most light he saw in a day.

While Martha spoke to him I eyed his shirt and its collection of stains. The polo had seen better days and it was littered with evidence of its past adventures – if you could call them that. I followed a mustard stain in the middle of his chest to a bland name tag with the word 'BARPY' written in black sharpie.

"Is Barpy a family name?" I chimed loudly, interrupting his and Martha's conversation. Slowly, he directed his attention toward me and away from Martha who was in the middle of explaining our circumstance.

"It's Barry." He grunted as his nose wrinkled in disgust.

"That's not what it says on your name tag." I replied in childish confidence.

Martha reached down to pat my shoulder as he ignored me and pushed his swivel chair to grab the key to Unit #16.

I followed Martha to the back corner of the lot. My strides were half of hers as we walked side by side on the cracked asphalt. The heat radiated from the ground and I could feel it through the thin souls of my sandals.

"Don't squeeze it too tight dear." Martha chided.

I glanced down at my fist. You could only see the battered green tag with a 1 and 6 scrawled on it as it waved in the wind. I relaxed my palm around they key as we continued our walk. My free hand shielded my eyes from the harsh sun as I attempted to take in my surroundings. We were behind the main building now. Pale white units stood in uniform lines on the asphalt bed. The environment was far from a park or wherever else most kids enjoy their birthday parties, but for me it was more exciting than any place in the world. I had no idea what to expect and continued giving each unit the full once over. I was sure that mine would have some marking to set it apart, some sign that would identify it as special. I stumbled across a crack as I attempted to peek in between the line of units to the left of me.

"Be careful May." Martha paused briefly taking my hand in hers.

She gave my hand a small squeeze and I momentarily gave up on scouring the units. Martha smiled patiently ahead as she glided through the rows of containers. Her long hair was tied in its usual loose braid at the back of her neck. When I had asked her why she always wore her hair in the same way each day she laughed indulgently and told me it was because she thought it hid her gray hair better. My own hair was loose and I used my key-holding fist to tuck it behind my ears as a breeze caught us.

I was hardly paying attention when Martha came to a halt in front of an unit seated in the back corner of the lot. I stopped a few paces in front of her. The number '16' was painted on the top of the sliding door in thick black lettering. I exchanged a quick look with my guardian before checking the number on my key to verify we were in the right place.

I'm not sure what exactly I had expected. A fleeting thought that my mother would be on the other side with outstretched arms and a balloon congratulating me for how brave I was to spend those years without her. I of course knew this was not a plausible reality, but never the less my heart sank when Martha pushed the sliding door up to reveal a row of cardboard boxes.

Not my mother.

I stood in place, five feet away from the entrance to the Unit. It was smaller than I expected, with absolutely nothing special about it. Late afternoon sun allowed only part of the container to be fully illuminated. I could make out one row of unlabeled cardboard boxes and the shadows of the other half. Martha with her back to me examined them closely taking her finger and dragging a line through the dust that covered the tops like a thin layer of dirty snow.

I later learned we were the first ones to open the Unit in six and a half years.

- 

I decided to divide up the prologue a bit - at the advice of a friend. Hopefully this makes it a bit easier to read as it is very lengthy!

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