Umbrellas in The Sun and Rain

Chapter 8

Theo had long since given up on trying to text Boris. Perhaps the phone was damaged and he broke up with Kotku so he couldn’t get his number. Or maybe Boris just hated him now. Or maybe they just drifted, like Theo had done with Hobie and Andy. Still, he thought of Boris often- The russian books, tattoo parlors, pierogi shops, weed in the air, polish ladies, kids smoking in the doorways to bars..

Theo had begun to work for Hobie as he lived with him. Most days went by in silence, them working together on chairs and other beautiful pieces of work. Hobie only ever spoke when Theo didn’t know how to do something, and even then it would be more of a demonstration than anything. That was alright with Theo- he liked being able to just sit in silence with Hobie. At first, he had always brought headphones to listen to his music, but now he simply enjoyed the silence as he worked.

Within this time he had followed up on everything to do with his fellow art thieves, who pleaded guilty and were charged quite a lot, as well as 5-15 years of jail time. The thought made him uneasy, thinking about what they’d do to him if he was caught. He distracted himself from that by working with Hobie and spending time with Hobie’s storage people- Specifically the Russian Jew, Grisha, who had once challenged him to curse in Russian, which Theo did easily. It was surprising how he still remembered so much of what Boris taught him. He could still hear him saying his stupid petnames sometimes..

Grisha took him to the storage unit once, and talked about how you could probably hide anything in here as long as you paid enough- Even illegal things. This, of course, made Theo hatch a plan- A plan to rent one of those spaces for the painting. But, of course, not in this unit, as it was made specifically for paintings and other delicate works. He didn’t want it to be so obvious, after all.

So, instead, he rented a space much closer to where Hobie lived, paying upfront for about 2 years. Then, he deposited his painting (Wrapped up and in a small bag) inside, throwing away the locker combination when he was finished locking it up. He left the building feeling as though a large weight had been lifted off his shoulders.

Now, eight years after he had bought the locker, it was 2010 and he was 23, walking down the street in one of his best suits, hands in his pant pockets as he looked fixedly at the ground, only looking up in confusion at the sound of his own name being called out. Confused, Theo turned around to face a brown haired man with a prickly beard, his blue eyes searching Theo’s expression expectantly. In all honesty, he didn’t recognize him, “Jesus Christ, Decker, you never change. I called your name like, five times.”

“...Um, I’m sorry, but..” Theo shuffled awkwardly, watching as the New York crowd started to go around them, many of them seeming annoyed, “Who are you?

“Platt. Platt Barbur?” Platt licked his lips nervously as Theo’s face scrunched up. The man in front of him, platt? He looked so normal. Less of a thug and more of a…Tired-looking teacher.

“Good Lord,” Theo breathed, running a hand through his hair and moving towards a shop so they wouldn’t be disrupting the flow of the crowd, and Platt followed, “You’ve…Changed a lot.

“Uh, yeah,” Platt gave a nervous smile, “So’ve you, though.”

“So, um,” Theo shuffled a little awkwardly, glancing around, “How are you?”

“Good, actually- Really good! Just started a new job, actually! A publishing company,” Platt said quickly.

Theo fiddled with some change in his pocket, nodding distractedly, “That’s great. It’s fantastic to see you. How’s Andy?” Theo glanced around again, trying to find a way out of this already.

“O-oh- You didn’t hear?” Platt said, suddenly a lot more awkward again. Theo was getting a little uncomfortable with how much he was licking his lips. Was he a coke addict, or was it just a nervous tick? “He died. He’s dead.”