The Painting

#26 Sixteen Part 2 - Deag Cuid Deag

Although I protested, Lyle ignored me as she walked the buildings perimeter. Aside from the front door there was only one other entrance. A window about three feet long and two wide. It stood six feet above the ground at the top of the wall. Surprisingly, it was open.

I reasoned that even Barry – or Barpy – needed the fresh air every once in a while.

"Here." Lyle bent her knees and centered herself around her cupped hands.

I shot her a look of confusion.

"I'm giving you a boost."

"A what?"

She replied without missing a beat. "You're smaller than me. Just climb through the window and grab the key."

"You make it sound so easy." I rolled my eyes.

"Do you want to get into the unit or not?"

I chewed at my lip. We didn't have time to wait around and who knew when they opened on weekends. Besides, I wasn't really committing a crime. I was stealing from myself which when it boils down to it isn't really stealing is it? Or at least that's what I kept telling myself as Lyle pushed me through the window.

I used the roof to hold myself and go in feet first landing soundly on the desk. I looked around to make sure no one was there, but the room was completely empty. To my left were the key hooks and I picked off the one labeled #16. Glancing back at the window my face contorted. I had no idea how I was going to get back up there.

"Go around to the door." Lyle called from the other side.

Duh.

I jumped off the desk careful not to ruffle any papers as I made my way to the front door.

"Not too bad." Lyle greeted me.

"It's all those days of flipping pancakes that gave me strong wrists." I flexed my hands referring to how I held my self up on the roof.

She laughed and replied with a sarcastic. "Sure."

Lyle's long legs matched my stride as we made our way down the concrete slab toward the back of the lot. Despite the early morning hour the sun directly above us had become enveloped in clouds, leaving the sky with only a sliver of sunlight.

We arrived in silence and stood before the grey container with black painted numbers indicating it was mine. The neon graffiti that adorned the right side had been freshly painted over, maybe Barry did leave his dingy concrete cave once in a while.

I stayed a few feet back while Lyle eagerly stepped forward to unlock the rolling door. My right hand played with my locket as I watched her from my fixed position. Three months ago I came here to return the very painting that I was now retrieving. I struggled to place a time in between the last three months and the present when I'd visited Unit #16.

In fact after my eighteenth birthday I hardly came here at all, maybe even less than once a year.

Coming to Unit #16 bore a different feel than it did when I was younger. When I was little it was a special treat, once a year and it came with a surprise – what kid isn't drawn to a surprise?

Flash forward and it morphed into more of a duty. Not necessarily bad in all ways but it was a responsibility. One that no longer involved an air of excitement or surprise. I knew what was in Unit #16 and even more importantly, I knew what wasn't.

It became harder and harder to come back to the place where you know you are lost. I mean truly lost, not just confused at the road sign because it is raining cats and dogs. I mean when you're out in the middle of nowhere with no street signs or a map. That's the point when you have to admit it to yourself - which is much easier said than done and much more painfully felt.