The Painting

#23 Cursed Part 2 - Cuid Cursed 2

"Turkey or ham?" Lyle held the two durably wrapped sandwiches in either hand. The pile of food she'd scoured from the dining car sat in the seat next to her closest to the window.

I eyed both of the sandwiches, it was difficult to make out which was which underneath the thick sheet of plastic wrap, yet I could tell they were at the minimum a few days old.

"Turkey." I answered, choosing what I guessed to be the lesser of two evils.

Lyle shrugged and tossed the wrap to me along with a bottle of water.

"A feast fit for kings." I remarked sarcastically as I tore the plastic wrap away. Not surprisingly the bread was stale, still I was too hungry to care.

Lyle stretched her legs out to occupy the seat next to me, her injured arm lay relaxed at her side. She turned to watch the midnight scenery roll past us, her hair was slightly damp with sweat and baby hairs stuck to her neck and ears, reminding me of the night we'd first met. Her face was no longer blotchy from the stress of her wound, although the bags under her eyes were more visible. Crimson bloodstains decorated her sleeve that was once a solid grey and the haphazard bandage was obvious on her upper arm.

It seemed oddly normal to be sharing a meal as we allowed the train to take us to our destination.

My posture starkly contrasted Lyle's relaxed slouch. I sat rigidly in my seat alternating between awkwardly placing my forearms to my thighs or resting them on the narrow windowsill. Energy manifested in my muscles, and even more so in my mind.

"Are you sure that isn't too much? I mean what if we spook him or-" I trailed off. Of course, I couldn't care less about the amount of money, but when Lyle laid out her – our plan I galled at the amount of money she thought we could get away with.

Furthermore I was concerned that if we aimed too high he wouldn't meet with us. Then where would that leave me? He was a high powered business man, and from what I took from Lyle's 'leverage' tactic, if I didn't have the painting Monroe wouldn't be inclined to even grant me the time of day.

"He sent men who were willing to kill to keep their search a secret. He'll pay." Lyle reassured me as she popped open a bag of potato chips. A smile spread to her face. She was taking pride in this. This was definitely no her first rodeo, not even a twinge of regret or angst crossed her features which were becoming only slightly easier to read after my last revelation.

She leaned across the aisle offering the open bag to me. "Are you regretting our deal?"

"No." I shot back quickly, maybe too quick as Lyle held my gaze for a fraction longer than was comfortable.

I was no longer divided, the part of my brain – perhaps the reasonable side- had distracted me for the last few years of my life. It was the section that agreed it was much better to keep busy than deal with thoughts of my mother.

That side wasn't in control anymore, I'd handed over my reins to curiosity and there was no going back.

The analog clock placed at the end of the aisle, in a place so obstructed, I could only see it by tucking my chin to my chest, read 3:33am. I'd been trying and failing miserably to slip into dream land for the past two and a half hours.

Mostly I'd been staring out the window, not at anything in particular, simply allowing my eyes to dully watch the blurred outlines of trees and occasional buildings that flew past. The words of Ingrid played in the back of my mind.

"We are cursed to want things we don't know and cannot see."

Tonight was undoubtedly the most I'd thought about my mother in a long time. There was so much tonight had shaken with in me, questions were suspended like dust in the air after an earthquake.

Angling my body away from the window I watched Lyle in the dimmed lights of the train. Her eyes were closed as she lay back peacefully, her uninjured arm underneath her head.

"Hey." I whispered.

Her left eyelid fluttered and she squinted to look at me.

"I need to ask you something."

"You always do." She muttered closing her eyes again.

"How did you become a thief?"

"Same way you become a doctor." She adjusted her injured arm laying her hand in her lap.

"You go to med school?"

"You're good at it."

"But you've been shot at before?" I countered. "Correct me if I am wrong but there are very few jobs where being 'good' means you get shot at."

Tonight couldn't have been her first injury. No one could react so level headed without having some level of experience toward the true terror that comes with knowing someone has a lethal weapon trained on you.

"Yes." She didn't state it proudly with her chest puffed out but she also wasn't ashamed of it. It was a part of her life, and how could she deny it?

"How many times?" She didn't answer. "Lyle?"

"Get some sleep May, we have a big day tomorrow." She turned her head away from me and I watched her chest heave in a sigh. If I'd blinked a moment earlier I would have missed her eyelids crinkle as the muscles in her face contracted almost unnoticeably. 

- 

Any guesses on Lyle's backstory?? 

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