#27 Motivation - Spreagadh

The air was ten degrees colder as we descended down the hill and back into town. The sun had all but vanished behind the advancing clouds and the shadows from shop overhangs did nothing but make the chilling wind harsher. Crossing my arms tightly around my chest I held Mo Soileireacht to my heart, my fingers clinging to the rough canvas.

I stayed a few steps ahead of Lyle. After my outburst toward her I didn't – and maybe couldn't – look her in the eye. I knew she noticed the way I reacted and it made me uneasy she hadn't addressed it. It hung over me like my own personal dark cloud, and thickened my thoughts that I may have to leave her. She'd gotten so close to my mother's things, and perhaps too close to me. Maybe it was my fault, I'd been enjoying myself far more than I should've. Enjoy isn't the right word – at least not as a whole – I was enjoying the feeling of hope. It was hope that drove me to meet Monroe under the pretense of selling him my mother's painting, and as much as I regretted to admit it Lyle played a significant part in supporting my hope.

Would I be able to support it single handedly?

The thought of meeting Monroe instantly made my pulse quicken as my feet did the same. The dark cloud that followed me for the past three blocks dissipated as my mind shifted to imagine what I might learn by this time tomorrow. That was what truly mattered.

For the first time in my life I was coming away from Unit #16 with a feeling other than confusion, self pity, or guilt. A sort of languid happiness poured over me. Today was different, completely different I was on an adventure. All of my life when I launched myself at my mother's mystery it was like walking through a dark tunnel without a flashlight or any idea how long the path extended. Now with the canvas burning holes in my palms I had been handed a light, one that allowed me to see a few inches ahead of me. I was walking in unknown territory, but with every step I was gaining ground.

"Jesus May slow down!" Lyle called from behind me.

I stopped abruptly not realizing I'd took off into a light jog.

"Trying to get rid of me already?" Lyle grinned catching up to stand beside me.

I laughed nervously feeling guilty for my train of thought before. Was it inevitable that I would have to leave her to complete my adventure solo?

"That obvious?" I gave her a tight smile.

We began walking again and I stared at my feet in a conscious effort to keep my pace at a normal speed. A few blocks passed in silence, less comfortable than usual.

I shifted my eyes to my right to sneak a glance at her, hoping – naively- that I could discern what she was thinking. She stared straight ahead, her posture poising her jawline parallel to the ground. Clearly she was thinking, but what about? What she'd seen in Unit #16?

I shook my head, no she couldn't have gathered much from one box. They were just old jackets, and why wouldn't she assume they were Grace's, or another employees.

From the other side of the street just beyond Lyle a flash of color caught my eye. A small café bearing a neon 'open' sign in the midst of window drawings of decorative sandwiches and pastries. My stomach gurgled in response as my eyes took in the mouth watering illustrations.

I'd worked up a sweat walking up and down the hill and hadn't eaten since that mornings fruit bowl.

"Hungry?" Lyle observed keeping her eyes trained on the darkening sky line before us.

"We should eat before we get back on the train."

"Wouldn't we miss it?"

"No," I glanced at the base of the hill where the one room station sat nestled in the curve of the land as it became flat again. "There's a later train that we could catch, plus we aren't making the exchange until tomorrow afternoon." My fingers ran over the smooth surface of Mo Soileireacht's frame as Lyle thought over my proposition. Truthfully, a fresh sandwich or even a salad sounded damn good right now, but the section of my brain not controlled by my aching stomach saw this as an opportunity to have some time to think about my next move before the meeting with Monroe.

"Alright." She conceded and we walked across uneven brick road.

The building was much larger than it appeared from the outside and I didn't protest as the warm air washed over me allowing my tense muscles to relax. I hadn't noticed how cold I'd become as the sun relinquished its control over the sky to the brooding rain clouds.

The decorum inside was quaint with little electric lighting, I assumed because the massive front windows provided ample light when the sun was in its full glory. Lyle held up two fingers to the hostess who whisked us away to a booth on the left side of the café before leaving us with the menus and instructions to take our time.

Five booths lined the open brick façade leading toward the back while several round tables spilled into the front area. An old fashioned bar complete with pretzel baskets and bottles and bottles of amber and clear glass occupied half of the restaurant. Guests were scattered about but none in our immediate vicinity and I could hear the hum of natural conversation as the speaker above us played a slow melody accompanied by a raspy female vocalist.

"You know I don't think anyone here is going to take that." Lyle commented without looking up from the menu that lay on the scratched wooden table.

I looked down at my chest, I hunched in an uncomfortable position as I tried to read the menu while keeping Mo Soileireacht's frame pressed tightly to my body. I laughed awkwardly as if I hadn't noticed and relaxed my shoulders placing Mo Soileireacht next to me on the inside of the booth.

"Never know, that guy in the corner looks pretty devious." I turned to point at an older man behind us who sat alone at a circular table reading the paper. As I did so the man removed his dentures to place them in his glass of water.

Lyle shook her head at me, a smile playing at her lips and though she didn't let it through I was pleased to know it was there.

"Fuck." I swore under my breath as I realized how much of an idiot I was being. I didn't have my wallet.

"Get whatever you want." Lyle said somehow reading my mind.

I was about to ask her how she planned to pay for our meal when our waiter arrived.

He was mid twenties with dirty blond hair styled messily as if he'd just woken. He wore a similar outfit to that of the hostess, simple black pants and a maroon cotton shirt with a complicated logo I assumed to be the café's. The name Casey printed in thin sharpie strokes on a tag pinned to his chest.

"What can I get y'all to drink?" His southern accent was over powering as he drew out every single vowel. No doubt he'd traveled a few state lines to end up in the middle of Maine. However, Casey's southern charm was lost on me as he didn't bother with so much as a glance, focusing all his attention on Lyle who ordered a water. He grinned at his order pad after his lively brown eyes gave her a once over.

"I'll have a water too." I interjected after it was clear to me that he wasn't going to acknowledge my presence even if I had an octopus on my head. "You know what make it a lemonade." I cocked an eyebrow at Lyle.

She laughed quietly to herself. "You're going to drink me out of house and home one lemonade at a time."

"That would only work if you had a house."

"You're right. More like car and car?"

I rolled my eyes and launched a napkin ball at her which she all too easily deflected with her menu.

We ordered a short while later -well Lyle ordered for me. I wouldn't be surprised if Casey forgot to write down my order in between flirty grins as he tried to hold Lyles attention. Thankfully Lyle didn't seem to reciprocate, not that I cared... that much.

My eyes wandered aimlessly around the room before settling on the girl in front of me. She was stacking single serving jam containers to form a pyramid, her green eyes focused single mindedly on the simple task of balancing the fruity treats. Her actions reminded me of a child and I smiled to myself, this felt so innocent, as if we were merely running an errand.

Would that make this a date? I bit my lip, it wasn't right to entertain that idea, not when there were so many more important questions running through my mind.

One in particular that occupied an ever growing corner.

"Lyle," I broke the silence, leaning forward on my elbows. "Why do you think Monroe wants the painting?" I'd asked it before but I felt that she'd held back something, and whatever it was I was determined to find out.

"Does it matter?" Her concentration didn't stray from the construction as she finished a fourth row of raspberry jam. Her hands drew away slowly while her eyes shifted to the base willing the sweet mini monument to keep its balance.

"But aren't you curious? I mean if you were to venture a guess, you have to have thought about it." I pushed my hand sliding across the waxy surface inching closer to her fingertips.

"There is only one reason people hire someone like me or those men to steal shit. Greed." She shook her head at me blowing out a breath of annoyance. "Greed of wealth or greed of jealousy, and sometimes when they are really having a good day it's both."

"Does that same reason apply to the people who take the jobs?"

Lyle let out a low laugh as she looked to the bar. After a brief pause she returned her gaze back to me. This time more intense than I'd ever seen, her light eyes were darker, but maybe it was just the dim lighting, or the way her dark hair cast shadows on her features. "What are you going to do with the money May?"

"What?" I knit my eyebrows in confusion.

"The money, I'm sure that's not usually what your paintings go for."

I fidgeted at the way she paused after the word 'your', was I imagining it or was she challenging me?

"I'd probably start with a better lock for my cabin." I smiled tightly.

Lyle didn't seemed pleased with my answer as her eyebrows folded down over her eyes ever so slightly. "So it is about the money to you?" She pursued as she added to the jam wall.

"Of course.-"

She cut me off with a sharp shake of her head. "No it's not May and you know it. See I've been around enough people who only give a shit about the payout to recognize someone whose on the complete opposite end of the spectrum." Her words were even as she analyzed me without looking up.

"So now you're a psychologist?"

"Just observant."

This was so typical of her, to turn my question back at me. Even more she was turning it on me, using my uncontrollable curiosity to launch her own suspicions, and yes maybe she was right to be suspicious, I did lie to her, but this was bigger than her. I'd been looking for anything to connect to my mother for my entire life, and I refused to be shamed now just because I wished to keep those details private.

I laughed darkly, and maybe it was the stress of being attacked less than twenty-four hours ago, total lack of sleep, an overload of hope, or all of the above but I snapped.

"You know what your problem is?" I pointed a finger at her.

She gave me a daring smile. "Oh please enlighten me."

"You think you're above everyone which is why you don't tell people shit. You don't allow yourself to open up much less respond to a question and even when you do it's never a complete answer."

"And you think you're entitled to know everything about a person." Her steady hand matched her tone as she positioned the last jam packet. Her creation stood only a few seconds before crumbling to the ground. We watched as the bright packages scattered unevenly across the table top. The action caused her pause and she inhaled a deep breath as if battling with the emotions I could not see. "Look May, when I was in your cabin-"

"You mean when you broke in." I corrected crossing my arms over my chest in anger.

She nodded acknowledging her words were lacking before she continued. "I saw some things, things that you obviously didn't want me or anyone else to see."

She didn't have to say anything more, we both knew what she was referring to. The albums. My mind flashed back to the night I found them at the other end of the bed, they'd been so out of place but I never thought- and why would I?

My head spun, how much did she go through them? Just leafing through their pages she would see my mother, someone who up until this point I'd never shown to anyone, nor had I taken anyone to Unit #16.

Lyle had infiltrated the deepest part of my identity, which ironically was another human being who I knew little to nothing about.

"It isn't your painting is it May?" She spoke softly and I could tell she was reading my features which were frozen in fear. Instinctively my hand found its way to the locket around my neck while my other hand reached out to hold Mo Soileireacht at my side.

Why was she saying this? What did it matter to her? The way she spoke was as if she were speaking to a trapped puppy, working to coax it out from under a chair. Was she trying to unravel my true motives for her good or for my own?

I was speechless, an occurrence that was becoming more regular by the day. Muted anger rose in my gut, not only because she eluded my question again but because she was right. I had not painted Mo Soileireacht and in many ways I had no idea who did. The initial anger subsided and I was left with an emotion I couldn't identify, it was without a name making my shoulders sag and my mouth go dry.

She knew.

Mo Soileireacht, the other paintings, my mother, were no longer my secret. They were shared, something that I'd never attempted even with my closest friend. And why? Would I feel less connected with them if I allowed others to form a connection as well?

I thought back to Lyle's observation regarding those she stole from, they were united in one thing, a motivation of greed. Wasn't that what I was being – greedy? A chill ran down my back urging me to pull Mo Soileireacht onto my lap in an effort to find warmth. No matter my intention being right or wrong; what separated me from the category of men and women Lyle stole from?

Casey arrived with our food, oblivious to the unbearable silence that'd settled over the once cozy booth. He swept away the scattered containers of various jams and set down the plates of food all while trying to catch Lyle's attention. She ignored him, holding my gaze with her softened eyes. I stared blankly back, too shaken to even attempt to discern what she was thinking behind her seemingly gentle stare.

"I have to go to the bathroom." I mumbled hurriedly rising from my seat with Mo Soileireacht in my hand.

Lyle reached toward me. "May-" I flinched away from her hand, refusing to look her in the eye.

"I need a minute." I managed in between controlled breaths as I made my way to the restroom at the back of the café.

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